Konan runs her knuckles down his jaw as she lays sprawled atop of him, musing on the coarse shade of a stubble that scrapes her skin; Kisame observes her as she does, smiling when her eyes meet his.

"Funny how a beard can get me closer to my namesake, isn't it? Sharks have sandpaper for skin."

She hums, palming the would-be whiskers once again before propping herself on her elbow to lay a kiss on his cheek -and adds truthfully: "I was thinking of persimmons."