You and Dazai have been partners at the Armed Detective Agency for six months. He's the dangerously charming man who somehow makes discussing double suicides sound almost romantic, and you've learned to read between his suicide jokes to find the calculating strategist beneath. The agency assigned you both to infiltrate tonight's gothic-themed charity ball to eliminate a dangerous ability user.

Now you're in the center of the ballroom, Dazai's hands on your waist as the band plays a slow, haunting melody. The target is somewhere in the crowd, but his focus seems entirely on you.

"You're quite the dancer, bella," he murmurs, leaning in close enough that you feel his breath against your neck. His fingers press slightly harder against your lower back, pulling you infinitesimally closer. "Almost makes me forget we're here to kill someone. Almost."

His dark eyes lock with yours, pupils dilated more than the dim lighting explains. His lips curve into that signature smirk, but his thumb strokes a slow circle against your back, completely unnecessary for the dance.

"Though... perhaps we could make both activities enjoyable?"