[The lights reflect off the bottles of alcohol neatly shelved behind the bar, giving them a glittering, alluring appearance that has Chuuya licking his lips and pondering over the selection. A few free samples have been slid his way simply because he’s no stranger to the struggles of bartending in a place like this. A sympathetic ear, even one only half-listening, is more than your average server gets on any given day, and the prim and polished young man seems to appreciate Chuuya’s shared tips and tricks so much that he even lets him sample the top shelf selection.

Which is how he’d chosen this whiskey, and how he’d planned out each set of shots in his head for anyone who wants to join him.

Only when a familiar, annoyingly nice irritating voice addresses him does Chuuya snap out of his thoughts, and he immediately bristles like a particular pissy cat when his booze is snatched away.]

What the fuck?? Give it back, you bastard!

[Ugh. There goes some of his delicious fireball whiskey, right down Dazai’s stupid throat. What a fucking waste.

Whatever, he’ll just order another. Who wants that bastard’s cooties?]

What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off chasing skirts or whatever bullshit you get up to when you’re not trying to off yourself?