"Two ANBU?" The scarred jounin who was skeptical of you before, says with what's definitely a scoff when the entire group sent to sap Konoha's supply lines early the next day, when all of the survivors (all but two of the jounin and most of the chunin) are present. The self-declared commander of the expedition, whose name you've yet to decide whether or not you'll commit to memory, was part of the group to arrive last, a team of two (previously three, one of the jounin casualties was under his watch) jounin. Unlike your group, his didn't return with one of the scrolls full of supplies in hand, which wasn't a goal or even really needed in the village, but which is a nice trophy.
He grabs the bloody sleeve of your kimono, causing you to slap his hand away, narrowing your eyes at him. "Easy there," he says with an audible sneer, feeling the dried blood between his fingers, "doesn't look like it's yours, and you're not dressed right to be a med-nin." His seeming companion, the heavier, also rebreather-clad jounin who unfortunately, wasn't his team's casualty, openly laughs at that.