'This is extremely morbid. I don 't understand why you insist on doing this now. '

'What do you mean? ' Frowning, Dazai turns away from the rows of tables and to Chuuya, who is also wearing a scowl except that it is a hundred times less play-pretend and a hundred times more furious. There's no better time to party than before your death."

'Your

fake

death, ' Chuuya whisper-hisses in that secretive 'lower your damn voice ' tone of his that he takes when this particular subject comes up.

'Yes, yes, same thing. ' Dazai waves his dutiful concern away. Even if the mafia servants that flit back and forth were to overhear them, they would not have the guts to connect the words to their proper context.

'It 's

not

the same thing. '

'Well, it 's the same point that I 'm making. I can 't possibly throw a party

after

my fake-death, Chuuya. ' He snickers to himself. 'That would be silly. '