Kurogiri's drying the same glass for the third time in five minutes when he finally asks.
"Dabi, why do you always keep that knife on you? I've never seen you use it."
Dabi smiles and sets it down on the table from where he had previously been turning it between fingers. He leans across the bar and threads his fingers in an I'm-so-glad-you-asked manner. The milky white blade rests between his elbows.
"I have someone I want to kill," he explains bluntly. Doesn't everyone? "And while it would be funny as shit to use my fire, I kinda want to do the deed without it." He's baring his teeth in a smirk like it's an inside joke with himself.
For all Kurogiri knows, it might be. He hums and picks up another glass.
