Hanzo POV.
Hanzo nudges the door open with the tip of his leather oxfords and saunters inside. The clinks and sounds of the bustling kitchen greet him, a welcome change to the groans and screams he endured just moments earlier. Ignoring the staff as they clean up the mess from the evening's chaos, he spots his reflection against the warped metal of the kitchen refrigerator. Blood stains his crisp white shirt, dripping over the split knuckles of his fists. He sneers at his reflection and resolves to clean up the mess.
He washes his hands and repeats the Witch's new title in his head, yet it still sounds strange. He mouths the words. Wife. Huh, he shrugs. Weird. Feels right.
The door to the main hall opens, and David strolls into the kitchen. Through the temporary slit between the open do
