[Initially, bewilderment. The man pauses altogether.
Then, study and discernment. Is this man truly Dazai? Though Oda had died in his arms, he could hardly recall exactly what Dazai looked like in those last moments. Whereas the man before him is tired and worn, yet dark and divine, and perhaps more sinister than when Oda delivered his final words.
Finally, Oda blinks and schools his expression into a more neutral, passive one.]
—Dazai...
[His response is too quick and sounds too breathless even to himself. Shouldn't he at least evaluate the situation even a little longer?
He wrests his gaze away when his drink arrives, his eyes narrow as he peers at the glass in his hands. A beat, and then another.
At the risk of reopening his only friend's old wounds, he asks softly,]
no subject
Then, study and discernment. Is this man truly Dazai? Though Oda had died in his arms, he could hardly recall exactly what Dazai looked like in those last moments. Whereas the man before him is tired and worn, yet dark and divine, and perhaps more sinister than when Oda delivered his final words.
Finally, Oda blinks and schools his expression into a more neutral, passive one.]
—Dazai...
[His response is too quick and sounds too breathless even to himself. Shouldn't he at least evaluate the situation even a little longer?
He wrests his gaze away when his drink arrives, his eyes narrow as he peers at the glass in his hands. A beat, and then another.
At the risk of reopening his only friend's old wounds, he asks softly,]
...How long has it been?