Matsukata was his regular self. Saskia rolled her eyes. What made him think so smugly of himself? He wasn't fooling her here. Ueda respectfully let her take the reigns here. However, he did say he would always be happy to help with anything. Blok pressed the button on the coffee machine. There wasn't any way around it. If she wanted to get to Matsukata, she had to be what Dazai had been to her. Friendly. Approachable. Fake. Except for last evening. Last evening something felt different. It was different. She called out to Dazai, and he responded. It was above their contract. There was no reason for him to come and listen. There was no reason for him to help out. It wasn't out of kindness, she believed, but perhaps a little bit of understanding. After all, for some reason, Dazai had left mafia at some point in his life. She doubted it was a pleasant reason or a sudden change of heart. She doubted a god had shined a light on his soul and let him to a different life. Something must have pushed him from being a mafia underboss to a life of paperwork and investigation. The smell of coffee pulled her out of her reminiscence. It was just yesterday. Don't look back on it so fondly and melancholically.

She placed a cup of coffee on Matsukata's table. It got his attention immediately. The man offered her a small smile before taking the cup into his hand.

"Appreciate it," Satoru said before tasting his beverage. He didn't continue sipping it. Saskia guessed it was to hot for him. She took a sip of hers.

"Just returning a favour," she replied casually.

"Are you feeling cold?" he asked.

"No," she replied, "just like my drinks hot."

"It's scorching," Matsukata noted. Saskia smiled for a moment of two. It was very hot indeed but never bothered her. It didn't even burn her tongue. "I'm finishing the paperwork on the mafia handiwork," he said instead, "wanna take a look?"

Blok nodded and leaned over the table. Satoru turned the files around so she wouldn't have to read upside down. The victim had been identified. As suspected, he was a young man involved with the mafia. He had only his old mother to worry about him. She was able to identify her dead son but, considering the condition of the body, a dentist report was inquired as well. It confirmed.

"Were you the one to tell her?" Saskia asked, choosing to look him in the eye. He just nodded in conformity. And then something switched within him again. Satoru wasn't himself again. The corners of his mouth fell. Eyebrows furrowed slightly while the rest of his face relaxed. His eyes darkened.

"I didn't want anyone else to do it," he said.

"I could have gone with you," Blok protested.

"No," he said with a sardonic smile and a barely audible huff. "I'm more used to death than you are." He took a sip from his coffee and grimaced when the hot liquid touched his tongue. Yet he forced himself to swallow. Saskia leaned back, averted by the display of stubborn endurance. "I don't want to push you closer to death if I can help it," he said. His voice sounded a tad strained after having a good gulp of hot coffee. Saskia opened her mouth in surprise. There was no pain. Mastukata was being honest. She scrambled back a bit more. Why was he being so considerate and nice now? Did he suspect her of being on his case? He didn't lie. He couldn't be trying to sway and win her over, she'd know he was lying. Yet he never displayed anything but extreme duality. He talked about power and god and gifted in a way that made her shiver. He truly was more used to death, they had this conversation before.

"Thanks, I guess." It was all she could say. Matsukata didn't reply. Just raised his cup of coffee as if to toast. She spared him one last glance and started to walked away. She didn't feel his eyes on her anymore. But she noticed that someone was trying to get her attention. Ueda was beckoning her to come over with a finger. Saskia discreetly flipped him off. It would be foolish to approach Ueda right after speaking with Matsukata. Even if he wasn't watching her as closely as he used to, she doubted he stopped watching her altogether. Ueda was taking none of her shit. He got up from his desk and approached her himself.

"You could bring me coffee too, ya know," Ueda played causally. "I need it more than he does."

"Why's that?" Saskia asked, confused between being angry and amused.

"Couldn't sleep," he shrugged. "Woke up early."

Saskia hid her expression well from anyone who would observe. Yet her eyes could tell a whole story of how she was raging due to Hiroto's nonsense. He was doing it on purpose and out of worry. But Blok needed him to be cool and professional about the whole issue with a fellow officer. Hiroto placed his hand around her shoulders as an old buddy would. He was slowly leading her away from Matsukatra's desk, out of his earshot, and to the coffee machine.

"Make me coffee," Ueda finished. "And we can discuss the similarities between our cases. What did Matsukata write in the case file?"

"Ugh, whatever," Saskia agreed, turning her head to look at Hiroto, dropping his arm from her shoulder. In the corner of her eye, she could see Satoru leaning above the paperwork, working diligently. She understood what Ueda had been trying to do. He played it smart. He played it casually. She could even say he played it well. Yet she wished he was more level-headed.

Blok watched as Ueda pressed the button on the coffee machine. They didn't talk right away. Both awkwardly beating around the bush knowing the subject of their discussion is touchy.

"Something happened inside Port Mafia," he mumbled. Saskia scoffed. It wasn't a particularly important conversation. Something was likely always happening inside Port Mafia. She doubted they operated the way an office would with fixed hours and lunchbreak.

"Cute how worried you are, Ueda," Saskia mocked. It didn't amuse her colleague one bit. He graced her with a derisive look.

"Anything weird about him again?" he asked, looking away.

"Obviously, otherwise I wouldn't make you wake up so early," she replied. "But nothing new."

"Alright," Ueda nodded without looking at her. "You two getting along at least?"

"We can function," Blok offered an evasive answer. A reply vague enough to never give a name or description to their relationship. It was strange and not all honest. Saskia started to wonder who was least honest in their partnership. Was it her? She lied about Dazai to Matsukata. But she couldn't tell him the truth either. And she continues to lie to Matsukata with her behaviour and actions. And he displayed an act of sincerity, despite it being first and only one. What did she do except to start lying to Ueda too?

"Something else you want to talk about?" Ueda asked. "You look stressed. You've been looking stressed for some time now."

"No," Saskia quickly come up with an answer. Dazai. "It's nothing to worry about. Just some relationship problems."

Hiroto raised a brow. "You don't mean you and Matsukata…?"

"God, no!" Blok retaliated. "What's wrong with you?" She slapped his shoulder. Hiroto laughed albeit briefly.

"Careful," he said, "you can't send another detective to the hospital."

"You only need a mental one."

"After you," Ueda winked.

"You are eager then?" Her tone was playful. Her eyebrows raised in question. She misunderstood Hiroto from the very beginning. He wasn't taking here to talk about Matsukata. He wanted to talk to her about her.

"I get your point," the man flashed a toothy smile. "Glad you are self-aware."

"I am nothing but."

Ueda picked up the hot cup. "If you say so," he hummed. Saskia was ready to slap his shoulder again. "At-ta-ta," he made a quick step back. "See this?" He raised his cup higher, to his eye level. "Very good, very hot coffee."

"Good? You really do need a mental hospital."

"Okay, smartass, scram," Ueda said, shooing her. "I want to enjoy it in peace."

"Sure, sure."

Saskia didn't look through the whole history of Dazai's movements. She wanted to know what kind of man he was and what he was doing by tracking his location, but that didn't help. And she could take a guess where Dazai spent the rest of the evening too. What she was surprised is to find his location to be in the same bar as yesterday. Her fingers tapped on the wheel nervously. He could have just left his phone in a rush. She could choose to go inside the bar and discover he simply lost his phone. Or she could find him inside, having a drink, seducing another female patron. Or maybe even the same one. He could be returning here with her again. She should just leave, go home, ignore the issue. But she couldn't help but be curious why Dazai Osamu would be coming here. She opened the door and breathed in the cold evening air. She can't help her curiosity. It was Dazai. It made no sense. It had to be his whimsical nature.

She walked inside and found him immediately. He was sitting on the barstool with a drink in front of him. She saw him before he could see her. But it wasn't a long while before their eyes met. Dazai raised his glass, beckoning her to come over. He knew she couldn't drink. Yet Blok went over to him anyway, still burning with desire to know what sparked such a man to come here again. He didn't strike her as a settler. He was a vagabond. Chuuya was right about something. The last thing she noticed while striding through the bar is that Dazai was alone. He wasn't charming anyone here, he wasn't even trying to chat with the bartender. He didn't rush to her when he saw her. He didn't call her to come over. He didn't address her in that annoying manner.

Saskia sat beside him on a barstool. Suffice to say, Dazai wasn't drinking orange juice anymore.

"I thought you'd never come," he said. It was empty words. They didn't contain any emotion. They didn't carry any connotation. He was just looking down at his drink as if it contained answers. Saskia looked there too, for a moment, hoping to find some answer of her own. But all she saw was ember liquid and a tiny ice-cube melting away in the alcohol.

"I am a full-time employee, you know," she said and averted her eyes from the glass. Instead, she focused on Dazai. He was slouching, his head hanging lower than usual. Yet she couldn't say he was sad or upset or angry. He wasn't any of the things she'd associate with a man drinking alone. He seemed blank. Empty. His tone was only adding to that impression.

"Say, did you ever kill someone?" he asked without sparing her a glance.

"Yes," she answered simply. Well, that's quite a jump. She wasn't going to return the question, however. It would be stupid. Dazai just hummed. His fingers gently gripped the glass tilting it slowly and continuously. The amber liquid was stirring inside slowly, the tiny ice-cube lost in the motion.

"I'll have one drink with you," she said thoughtfully. Her eyes strained on his face. Osamu didn't look at her once. His gaze wasn't even looking at the glass with alcohol. Saskia could tell he was looking but not seeing. He was looking somewhere else. He wasn't seeing the glass. "But only one," she repeated, "I'm driving." The corner of his lips turned upwards. Saskia raised her hand to get attention from the bartender. She named her order.

When the bartender placed the glass in front of her with a distinct clink, Dazai looked at her for the first time since she sat beside him. He was still holding his glass, yet the motion stilled. It was lightly tipped to a side inviting her to touch their glasses. Green eyes studied him but all in vain. Osamu wasn't moving or saying anything, just inviting her with a simple and recognizable gesture. The glasses were stuck together. Dazai turned around on the barstool. His drink was placed back. Saskia forgot to drink hers as she observed the change in the demeanor. A smile was now gracing Dazai's face. He leaned his head on his hand and gave her a curious once-over.

"So, did my plan work?" Osamu asked with untainted self-assurance.

"Do I really need to stroke your ego?" Blok scoffed. They held eye contact. Dazai didn't remit. I need a drink for this. "Yeah, yeah, it worked," she said and chugged the drink immediately after. It burned her throat, but then it turned into a pleasant and overwhelming warmth all over her body. It wouldn't last long either. Dazai was still grinning.

"What?" Blok asked suspiciously.

"What do you say when someone helps you, Saskia-chan?"

"Fuck off, Dazai Osamu?"

Dazai laughed. It was forced, a bit overreactive, Saskia could tell that much. He wasn't laughing because he thought her funny. But his act was grossly over-the-top. He was letting her know the truth behind his laughter. She could tell now what he was looking for. The bartender placed the smoked salmon finger bites before them. Dazai reached for them first. Saskia slapped his hand away and stole one bite.

"Now you can have one," she said with a smug smile. Not that she had to tell that. His fingers were quicker than her words. What a child. It wasn't a thought filled with fondness. He simply lacked manners. Dazai turned his face to her and stuck out his tongue. At least he finished chewing.

"Mature," Blok deadpanned.

"Bartender," Dazai said, turning away from her, "give me a new drink, please. This one's warm."

Saskia noticed the look the man gave to her partner. The look of slight annoyance. The look of whose fucking fault is that. When the new glass arrived, Dazai repeated the same gesture. The woman just stared at him blankly. She had finished her drink. The one and only drink she promised to have tonight.

"Ah, right," Osamu said with a faint smirk. "Bartender, the lady's glass is empty." The man gave a thumbs-up to indicate that he had heard the order and was working on it. The woman didn't believe in Dazai's forgetful nature. He was trying to make her drink again.

"I promised you one drink, Dazai," Saskia sternly reminded.

"You promised to have one drink with me and you had it by yourself." His faint smirk became a prominent one. It made her grimace. What a childish game he was playing.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" she questioned.

"Are you afraid I'll take advantage of you?" Dazai raised a brow. Saskia scoffed at his oblivious façade. As if that is something out of the ordinary.

"I'm afraid of being an irresponsible driver," she said and turned away from him. She didn't put any effort into her answer for it was the truth. Whatever battle of wits Dazai was trying to start here, she wasn't having it. It was a long day, she had been under a lot of stress recently. If entertainment was Dazai's goal here, she wouldn't provide it. He can go and look for someone else for that. There was a whole bar for that. There were other people for that.

"Say "Aah"," she heard beside her. It mortified her. Yet she turned her face to him again. He was holding a salmon bite between his fingers and nudging her like a child to open her mouth and eat.

"What the actua—"

His hand moved closer to her face. Saskia instinctively swapped it away. Osamu showcased his hurt ostentatiously with a dramatic pout and blowing cool air on his hand.

"If we weren't in a public place," Blok hissed at him. The shock of what had just transpired hasn't settled yet. Did Dazai just attempt to feed her like a child? As if she would it from his hands. She was not his dog.

"What would you do?" the man asked with a smile. There were lights of amusement dancing in his dark eyes. And under those dark eyes were barely noticeable mimic wrinkles. He was genuinely amused. This were the things that amused him. Saskia didn't understand him at all.

"Idiot," she said. Timely as always, the bartender placed her drink. Her fingers reached for the glass before she offered a nod as a sign of gratitude.

"Now, what should we drink for?" Dazai asked casually. His sounded so natural in this situation. Saskia envied his ability to match the pretense of a situation perfectly. As if they were meant to meet in this bar and share a few drinks. As if, as if.

"To catching our fish and never go fishing together again," Saskia said sarcastically.

"That's a convoluted metaphor," Osamu said thoughtfully. "Were you good at poetry in school?"

"Nope," she shook her head. Green eyes fixed on the drink inside her glass. "Chemistry, though, I was good at."

"To chemistry then," Dazai struck his glass against hers.