Which is exactly how, two weeks later, he finds himself practically dragged into a waiting room that looks like something out of a Pottery Barn catalogue, mahogany tables and plush carpets 'there's even an overly ornate grandfather clock in the corner, chiming out the time '

Five o' clock.

"How do I know it's not just some quack who listens to people whine for money?" Dazai mutters, and Chuuya shrugs.

"I thought you might be paranoid or something, so I did a

lot

of research, and he's expensive. Quacks aren't expensive."

Dazai shrugs, drumming his fingertips against his thigh. "You'd be surprised."

"And he's won a bunch of awards from the psychiatry association."

"Eh," Dazai shrugs, "he could've rigged that."

Chuuya snorts, shaking his head as he reads over a magazine. "Yeah, I'm sure that the National Association of Psychiatry is a den of corruption."

"You'd be surprised, chibi," Dazai mutters, tapping his foot.