[It's not like Chuuya needs to bribe Dazai to come; he's the one who had suggested it, more or less, but Dazai appreciates the effort of giving him a reason not to refuse. While they wait, he'll straighten his collar--just for something to do with his hands. And this is an unusual feeling; Dazai doesn't quite know what to say. Chuuya has displayed a lot of honesty, too much, and Dazai is still closed tight, unwilling or unable to say the sort of things Chuuya is able to blurt out.
It's frustrating. He hates it. There are things on the tip of his tongue, things he wants to yell at Chuuya, but Dazai just can't get himself to spit them out. So he doesn't, shrugging on the coat Chuuya brought, obviously new.]
How long?
[Dazai doesn't actually want to be in a cab. He feels like clawing out of his skin, and like being in an enclosed space with Chuuya and some other body might tip him over again, but there aren't any bridges for him to throw himself off of. But even if there were, he's not going to risk a repeat of what just happened.]
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It's frustrating. He hates it. There are things on the tip of his tongue, things he wants to yell at Chuuya, but Dazai just can't get himself to spit them out. So he doesn't, shrugging on the coat Chuuya brought, obviously new.]
How long?
[Dazai doesn't actually want to be in a cab. He feels like clawing out of his skin, and like being in an enclosed space with Chuuya and some other body might tip him over again, but there aren't any bridges for him to throw himself off of. But even if there were, he's not going to risk a repeat of what just happened.]