“Why aren’t poisons ever painless?” Dazai whined loudly, an unwelcome annoying background track.
“We both trashed the rival gang and their pet snake,” Chuuya told his awful excuse of a partner and slapped half the paperwork in front of Dazai. “We both write up the report.”
Dazai stared between the paper and Chuuya, eyes wide, then his hand went to his forehead and his head went back dramatically. “So cruel! I’m in the throes of poison here!”
“You won’t die,” Chuuya reminded him. “Write, you pathetic snake-seducer!”
“I was supposed to die!”
“Well, you didn’t.” Chuuya really wished he had.