Hashirama sidled into the office, paperwork clutched in his arms, and peered into Tobirama's teacup before even so much as greeting his brother. The tea swirled about violently, splashing over itself in a tempestuous whirlpool - and every once in a while, a handful of drops would splash up and over the rim, only to be pulled back in with a sharp handsign.

Contrary to what most people believed, it was a good sign, a sign that Tobirama was not so deeply pulled inward with stress and anxiety that even his suiton was tight, controlled to the point of lifelessness; Hashirama set his own paperwork down gently and pressed a quick kiss to Tobirama's temple, before taking up the teapot to refill.