Dazai squirmed a little under the cool strokes of Chuuya’s brush over his back, only to get a hand firmly planted between his shoulder blades.
“Hold still,” Chuuya warned in a low voice. “You’ll make me smear the ink.”
Atsushi was ninety percent certain there was some ulterior motive in Dazai assigning him to stake out the office of a certain official to record his comings and goings with Akutagawa of all people. Not that Dazai was the kind of person to explain his motives, nor was it Akutagawa’s to explain what interest the Mafia had in this information that Fukuzawa could possibly go along with.