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While the streets were swamped with light, families gathered and prayed around their tables, plates of steaming condiments and food settled in front of them. Windows flickered and showed snippets of different stories. Everyone was enjoying their time, while Osamu Dazai took quick, sure steps into the alleyway and yanked the door of Lupin open. Three strides in and he spotted Ango.

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Dazai considered leaving until Ango abruptly stood up, swiveling towards him. The male adjusted his wire glasses, hair clean and combed neatly. His eyes were shadowed with lack of sleep, but they were still perceptive enough to spot Dazai.

"Ango," Dazai stiffly said.

"Dazai-san," Ango replied in the same manner. He stood up, drink empty. "I was leaving. You're fine."

Bile rose in Dazai's throat, but he stayed silent as Ango gathered his belongings with meticulousness, and departed, taking extreme care to not brush against Dazai in the doorway. As soon as he was gone, Dazai felt pressure looming over him. He should feel relieved, but instead a tight weight compressed down onto his chest and wrested it full circle.

"Y-you're the frequenter," a new voice stammered, and Dazai turned inquisitive eyes towards the individual. The bartender had (e/c) eyes that were almost golden in the light. They were polishing a glass unworthy of polishing. "Would you like the usual?"

"You're new," Dazai commented, squinting at the person. "Manager doesn't usually hire anyone else, right?"

"I'm a special case," the person insisted.

"You're not...a Special Division case, are you?" Dazai asked, piecing together Ango's presence with the newcomer. It was then as he settled down to sit at the bar did he realize a glass of whiskey on the rocks sat untouched next to him, sprig of baby's breath stuck delicately between the glass and the spherical ice.

"No." The tone went sour. "Are you here for a drink, or not?"

"I was just curious, don't worry!" Dazai laughed, although he didn't feel the genuine crinkle underneath his eyes. "Yes, I'll take the usual."

A pause. Then, incredibly more meeker: "how did you like your ice?"

He sighed. It was then as the person turned did he realized something. Their hands were shaking.

"Hey, bartender," he began, observing the bartender's face for any signs of change in emotion. "I don't think you belong here, whether it be as small scaled as in a bar, or as large scaled as in this city."

A pause. Impressive. The bartender only skipped one beat before busying themselves on making the drink. The ice pick chipped away slowly with a plink noise.

"They warned me of you. A tongue not of silver, but of mercury. Osamu Dazai."

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