dazai fixed his appearance in the mirror, thankful that the stain wasn't that visible on his pants. he brushed his hair back, before walking back out to greet the politicians again. they sat next to each other, talking casually despite the tense air around them. the seat next to fyodor was unoccupied and dazai slid into it happily.

"in any case," the diplomat began, continuing a thought that dazai wasn't there for the beginning of, "the arms deal isn't worth that, is it?"

mikhail's icy glare didn't leave dazai for a moment and dazai's sweet smile didn't falter at all. "i suppose not," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"what does one have left if they lose their dignity?" fyodor asked, taking a sip of his tea. a slight tickle on dazai's knee startled him for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. silently, dazai took a sip of his disgustingly expensive wine.

"well said, mister dostoyevsky, well said!" the diplomat laughed, and fyodor's hand continued snaking up dazai's thigh. dazai ignored him.

"you can't lose dignity if you never had any to begin with." dazai gave mikhail a sweet grin as he felt fyodor squeezed his thigh before moving his hand away. dazai gave him a look as dostoyevsky gave an airy excuse, leaving. the rest of the dinner was quiet, with meaningless small talk, until the politicians decided to leave.

dostoyevsky was waiting outside for him, a cigarette hanging from his lips. his phone was in his hand as he typed with a click of his tongue. upon noticing dazai, he dropped his cigarette and stamped it out as he put his phone in his bag. "aw, we're you waiting for me? how cute!" dazai cooed.

"would you prefer to walk home?"

"no way! it's too cold!" he opened the door to the car and sat in the passenger's seat, humming cheerfully as he waited for fyodor. the russian huffed, stepping into the car.

he started driving and dazai realised that he was in an unfamiliar road. "where are we going?" he asked, not letting his worries slip into his words. after all, if push came to shove, dazai could probably bash fyodor's head in with the stray ashtray on the ground. speaking of, since when did fyodor smoke?

"just a small errand."

"are you even of legal driving age? you don't look like you have a license."

"you don't look like the sort to care," fyodor responded, taking another turn and entering a posher side of the city and parking out of sight. he glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, a faint smirk dancing on his lips. "i'm the same age as you." he turned the headlights off and cut the engine, lowering himself so if someone was to look through the windshield they wouldn't see him immediately.

"ooh are we doing a stakeout? how romantic!" dazai purred, leaning his head against fyodor's shoulder. he brushed him off and quickly hushed him, eyes following the pedestrians walking by. "how boring," he sighed, leaning forward to rest his chin on the windshield.

he watched the people on the streets, the moonlight bathing them in silver rays. one woman in particular caught dazai's eye. she seemed to be in her mid twenties, with bright gold hair and scarlet lips. she was adorned in jewellery and hung onto an older man. he recognised him to be a nobleman, who was very much riding the coattails of his family's legacy. dazai glanced over to fyodor, noticing him pull out another phone—a flip phone—and sending a quick message.

almost immediately, a scream sounded from the road. the man was lying dead on the floor, bits of his skull and brain littering the streets right outside his home. the woman was splattered in blood and dostoyevsky turned the engine back on, reversing out of the parking spot and leaving.

dazai whistled, impressed. "first a politician, now a nobleman? what if someone spots your car? we were parked there for a while."

"this isn't my car." dostoyevsky glanced over at him and dazai laughed heartedly.

"of course, of course!"