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He should be ashamed. 

He would be, had he not been so incredibly stricken with heartbreak. The burn of bourbon spreading through his chest like fire is oddly comforting. He can't remember the last time he'd had an actual drink---he had sworn the stuff off since he'd found out that he'd been pregnant with Eri. He was one of those moms that preferred breastfeeding over making bottles for his pups so until he was sure that he wouldn't be nursing anymore, he hadn't wanted to taint himself with shit like alcohol. He'd thought that he was ready to wean Eri by the time she was two but she had decided she wasn't ready so he didn't try to force her. He'd been so careful about the things that he consumed; he had to make sure the milk he produced for his pups was the best that he could offer, after all. 

And now here he is. 

Alone at a bar at ten in the morning to drink his problems away. 

He couldn't bring himself to come into the precinct upon leaving his sister's place that morning, worried that Toshinori would have found out about this entire ordeal and that it would turn into an even bigger scene. He's been blatantly ignoring what he assumes to be the concerned texts and phone calls from the blonde alpha, unable to find the strength to even engage in a conversation about what was happening. How could he when this is all so embarrassing? 

This whole ordeal is a mess. 

And what's worse is that he can't explain it all to Hizashi. He knows that things have looked really bad within the last week or two---he gets why he would assume that he and Toshinori were having an affair---but he hadn't been lying when he said that he and Toshinori hadn't been doing that sort of thing. In fact, everything that he and Toshinori have been up to for the past few weeks or so has been closely related to Katsuki's case. 

The case that he can't tell Hizashi about because it's highly classified. 

He's unsure if it's the best of ideas to just let him think that he and Yagi are fucking each other. It was enough of a struggle when Eri was born and Hizashi swore that she wasn't his---accused Shota of sleeping with Vlad. Shota doesn't understand his insecurities. He wasn't wild or promiscuous in his younger years at all and the only partying that Shota does is when he goes out with his co-workers for a bite after leaving the precinct. 

What the hell is he supposed to do? 

The barkeep comes to refill his drink but he politely declines with a slight raise of his hand, reaching into his pocket for his card to pay his tab when the woman tells him that his tab has already been paid for. He lifts his head, brows pinched in obvious confusion when the bartender points to the end of the bar. 

Shota's heart jumps right into his throat. 

It's a little difficult to tell with the amount of alcohol that Shota has consumed but mask or no, he's fairly certain that he's come face to face with one Chisaki Kai. 

He's wearing dull, regular clothes that seemed to have helped him blend in with the regular morning crowd---which happens to be incredibly sparse. Shota mutely wonders how long Chisaki had been there watching him and paying for his drinks. 

He also wonders why he hadn't noticed that he was being watched. 

Most of him is in complete awe over the fact that their target seems to have fallen into his lap from thin air.