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Actually, Celes did not know; she did not know which habit in particular, but, with a glance she was able to guess. Drink. The broken bottle told more than his playful tone ever would. At one point, he had been in a dark place, or, maybe he still was, and, 'a habit' formed over time to cope and deal with that. Although he might not have gotten her to smile, her posture considerably relaxed. She folded her arms solely together wrapping each one around opposing sides of her navel, then, stared – for a moment – at his shoulder. Rather . . . what was visible. Her eyes widened, but, she quickly remedied that stare, looking away, while trying, but, perhaps failing, to not be awkward. Regardless, even without the change of an expression, or, the presence of laughter, it was clear that she was put much more at ease by the first parting of words.

When he spoke of potential danger (in particular to herself), she would have blurted out that she was far more worried about his present condition, than, her own. After all, chucking an unopened bottle of sake at a wall for no apparent reason, usually, was not a sign of good health. Furthermore, if he had opened the bottle, it would be barely past midday, and, the booze would already be flowing. She had seen it before, her eldest brother inherited such habits from her father. Another, bad sign. However, you just do not lead with something so direct, or, at least not like that. Being blunt was well enough and okay, but, there were times wherein restraint ought to be used. What little she had, she did employ, somewhat anyways.

“Well, you don't seem to be – worrying – so, maybe, I should.” She retorted.

While there might have been a playful edge to his words, Celes, was a tad aggressive. Granted the fuel behind it seemed not only to be genuine and sincere, but, out of a considerable amount of respect. What confidence she had in approaching him had been increased two-fold by his responses, so, she was no longer thinking on what present danger there might be for herself in a situation like this. Still, as he had noted, he could have been dangerous. Yet, she did not possess the sizing gaze of his eye. She did not see the 'thread' of a Shinobi in him. If she had, she may have been more wary. Instead, all-she-saw, was someone that looked like they needed some company.

The Academy could wait.

From the opposite direction a few more people went about their business, forcing her to step off to the side to give them room enough to pass, and though, she did so with an open gesture of her arms, she did not relax upon the backing of the wall. For, a few meters down from the start of it, a door to another shop opened, thereafter slamming rather suddenly, causing her to shut her eyes and to wince. A second or so passed before she opened them again, She inhaled, breathing in deep as her arms cross-crossed once more into that same-pattern. The motion in itself slowed her breathing, sending a cool calming wave throughout her body.

“If you were; dangerous I mean,” she titled her head, gazing at him directly. “You would have to be pretty brave to act. You're in the Uchiha District,” now, she did smile, “or did that slip your mind?”

Across the cobblestone way, sunlight streamed; parting through, between, and, beyond the cracks in the many structures which stood upon the route. Intersections split from a central point, divided by a circular roundabout wherein thatched roofs of both red and white favored symbols, specifically: the moniker of a legend – at least to the village hidden within the leaves. The buildings belonged, or, held relation to the Uchiha Clan, enforcers of the law and the makeup of the larger police force within Konohagakure. And, around their headquarters were the homes of whom they called kin, either by blood, or, by marriage. On this day, the Uchiha District was relatively the same as it had been for the past several years. Peaceful. Lawful. Ordered.

In the years prior things had stagnated. The induction of a new Hokage, and, her subsequent replacement, were of course of the popular talk, but, the shadows which began to settle, never were; the stirred leaves were slowly becoming still – if they were not already. Times were good, but, only in the sense which would suggest the calming brunt of an oncoming storm. Ties were not strained, but, for those whom saw and sought the sanctuary offered, they were nothing if not vulnerable. However, as much as previous years would give cause for unrest (be it civil or otherwise): the spreading of a plague, the attack thereafter which saw many injured, and, many more dead; the youth of the next generation, were sheltered. After all they had to be protected, for, they in turn were the future.

Rumors spread into truths, where little white lies were told to children, and, children spread them to friends and acquaintances. Among them was Celes, more formerly known as: Celeste Marcelleus Uchiha. At the time she had naught been but six years old, yet, as the sands turned into day after night, and, while the leaves tumbled down at the coming of each season, she grew. Grew into no one special, save, for the name which bore the respect of many, and, the disdain of far more. Uchiha a named to be feared, but, one more likely to be cursed. Both lithe and short for her age, she melded easily enough into those whom wandered the streets. Slinking in between one shadow or another, several took no notice of one twelve-year old girl heading towards the Academy. Her auburn hair would sway every now and then, and, her blue eyes might look upon them; but, the silence within the crowd would not cease.

It was close to midday, although, she was not late. In fact, she would be early (quite a bit), for her first class period of the day. Normally there would be other students walking beside, or, close to her, today though, was different. There were only a few more weeks until graduation, and, everything that came with becoming, and, being a Genin. For her anyways, and, for those that were just as ready to pass their examinations as she, these days would not only be as stress-free as possible, they would also give time enough to reflect on what had been learned. Still others too young, or too inexperienced, were given respite as well. Konohagakure needed the flames of the young, and in that way, close to when they would become servants of the village, they were given what freedom they desired.

Celes did not care one way or the other. Glad for company, and, equally as happy walking alone, she did not mind that not one person had decided to take up a conversation with her as she walked. Occasionally, she would look around, taking in the sights, and, blinking up towards the sky where warming rays beamed bright in their respective lights. While, the familiar street-corners diverged here and there, and, so-on thereafter, she knew where they led; each and every one of them, their paths converging in all manner of different directions. They led around the village – her home – in a great sphere, then to all the places that could not be traversed without crossing into one another once, or, twice again. If she tried, she could find the shortest, or, the longest route to her destination.

Today, she had not yet decided which, so, she walked on.