While there's the obvious advantage of conserving energy that peace and quiet grants, Torifu can't help but to be distrusting of it, glancing this or that way nearly every time he hears a noise, his usual scowl deepening for those moments.
He's not sure why--Is it defensive? An intimidating gesture?
(Somewhere in the back of his mind, he laughs at that; He's been told before by some less-than-kind individuals that he looks like an angry boar. But it didn't bother him much, because he was well aware that he could've crushes the three of them in one hand with ease.)
Whether or not it was intentional, Torifu finds his attention drawn back to Danzo as some borderline-ghostly woman passes by, both by how the other man subtly draws closer to him and how the woman seems to pay neither of them any mind.
His first impulse is to ask Danzo if he's okay, but that's nagging behaviour he'd expect from someone like.. Koharu, perhaps, and he'd be damned if he'd intentionally bring up something even remotely related to Hiruzen unless it was absolutely necessary.
(Which, for the moment, it wasn't. Thank whatever useless deities watch over them.)
Instead, he shakes his head and gives a non-committal, nearly silent grunt as he places a hand on the other man's shoulder, as if to reassure him.
It's a gesture he finds himself repeating when the women and their instruments approach, hoping that his purposefully-unenthusiastic, unimpressed, and falsely-tired voice uttering a single word ('No.') would be enough to keep them at bay.
"So." he finally begins, finding his voice easier once away from the other people. "What are we supposed to do now?"
For as much as he prattled on and on that Danzo had a terribly tendency to work too hard, it wasn't that much worse than his own, and just like most times when he finds himself free from obligations, he doesn't know what to do with himself.