middaeg | what is the sesame street number of the day??

Makoto settles back into the couch as well, allowing his weight to sink into the soft cushion. He takes a quiet moment to look inward before continuing their conversation. It feels good to be with someone right now, he acknowledges to himself. Perhaps it's because they're both vampires, but Makoto doesn't feel any need to tread carefully around Dazai. That's a first since he fled his house earlier that morning.

"I was nervous, too," he finally says. Maybe now is a good time for him to get some of this thoughts out, if Dazai is willing to listen. So far, it sounds like he has some things he may want to get off his chest too.

"But, a few weeks ago, I met a mirrorbound who is almost completely transformed. I didn't have anyone else to turn to, so I asked him for help, and he... let me drink."

He felt faintly disgusted during the hesitation in his sentence. Looking at his shoes, he adds, "I talked a lot about accepting it earlier, but I'm not over it yet either. Not completely."

Having someone likeminded to talk to is very nice, Dazai feels. Though, he does have his closest friend here he could turn to whenever he needs someone to lean on, someone to discuss things with. Oda isn't a vampire, however, so having a friend who is will ultimately benefit Dazai.

He listens and nods, deciding to respond when the timing seems right. "Fully transformed? As what? I'm assuming they'd been fed from before, otherwise they probably wouldn't have been so keen on you doing that so quickly upon meeting. But I'm glad that you were able to find someone." He sighs softly. "You know, I have someone I can rely on for anything here, but I wonder if I'm asking too much if I take blood from him multiple times a day. I should find other sources, but like I said, I get a little nervous asking someone new."

He gently places a hand atop the other man's shoulder as he witnesses him look down at his shoes. "It may take a while."

Makoto nods, confirming Dazai's suspicions about the source of his meal. "He's a dragon," he says gently, "and he had scars on his wrist that looked like bites. So, probably." He ponders, for a moment, mentioning what happened after he fed, but decides against it when the conversation continues on.

"You can always come here in the future, I suppose," he says with a smile after Dazai touches his shoulder. Smiling subtly, he looks back over at him. "They serve blood, after all. I heard it's not the same as getting magic from a witch, but it's something."

He can't help but blink at the answer, since, in his mind, he didn't expect it to have been a dragon that Makoto had fed from. Thoughts run through his mind as to how that'd even work, but the comment about bite marks on the wrist essentially answer that curiosity.

"That's true. I'm not one to heavily rely on others, so this is difficult!" He's lying; he relied on others far too much back home, oftentimes shirking his own duties for a certain partner of his to fulfill instead. "But this place here seems as if it'll be a blessing."

He's quiet for a minute or two, simply taking in the small, mundane details of the bar. Which he finds himself appreciating more the longer he looks around. He's almost in a daze when a plate is brought over to him.

It's a sandwich -- two slices of bread and something red and leathery between them.

"Ah, the blood sandwich. Why did I order this, again?" He chuckles, almost nervously, as he eyes it up.

During the relatively long moment of silence, Makoto continues to watch him, his smile slowly fading. There's something about Dazai that he can't quite put a finger on, despite how sharp his ability to read others is. Somehow, he is both genuine and fake at the same time. He's not sure whether he believes him when he says that he relies on others or that this place is a blessing, but even so, he still feels just as content to sit here with him.

Finally, their orders arrive. Makoto's potato pancakesakes smell wonderful, and even the blood cocktail looks appealing despite his meager, satiated appetite. Really, he's more curious about this blood sandwich thing.

"I guess it's made from blood?" he says, not being very helpful but having nothing more to say beyond that. After looking at the sandwich, he glances back at Dazai. Is this the first taste of blood he's going to have, or...?

Too focused on the atmosphere and their surroundings, Dazai doesn't pick up on the other man's smile fading at all. But if he had, he'd comment on it.

Now that their food has arrived, he's genuinely distracted by his sandwich. Enough to literally poke the top slice of bread before sighing and picking up the entire thing. He frowns, darting his eyes over to Makoto a moment.

"Blood leather, it looks like. But I ordered this, so I have to at least try it," he comments, slowly bringing the culinary abomination to his mouth. He takes one cautious bite and --

It's not terrible.

"Not bad. Not great, but not bad. Doesn't taste quite like fresh blood." Even though he'd admitted his nervousness in terms of asking new humans to feed, he has been feeding from his closest friend.

"Fresh blood"? Oh, right. His "sources.". Makoto hums, figuring that dream feeding counts as a first drink, although he's unaware of any feeding Dazai has done that he hasn't mentioned yet.

Chewing on a bite of his potato pancake, he curiously watches his companion bite into the sandwich and chew. "Not great but not bad" is probably enough to satisfy Makoto's teenage palate. After another bite of pancake, he sets his fork down.

"I'll let you try my drink if you let me have a bite. It's got wine in it, you know." Like they're trading lunches at school. He smiles. "You could try the potatoes too, I guess, if you wanted."

Taking another bite, this time larger than the last, Dazai picks up on the more subtle notes in the leather, and he's discovering that it's slightly better than alright. Still nothing quite like fresh blood, but a decent substitute. Mentally, he prepares a plan to come here once in a while and supplement his meals, so that his closest friend doesn't have to be bitten so much.

"Oh, sure!" Enthusiastically, he slides his plate over. "You know, my previous partner loved wine. Only the finest, though. Anything less than that he'd complain about." A pause, then he adds, "I hope he never comes here."

Makoto slides his plate over and invites him to pick up his glass with a gesture. Without another word, he tears off a corner of the sandwich and pops it in his mouth. The bread tastes slightly bland, like he expected, but the blood leather strikes him as pretty good. As he chews, he nods his head to express his approval.

"Your partner?" he asks once he's swallowed. What Dazai said struck him as a big odd, but he wonders what the right way to ask about it would be. After pondering for a moment, he continues, "Would that be like a business partner, or... a personal one?"

Dazai picks up the offered glass immediately, taking a small but thoughtful sip with a quick hum to follow. He waits to try any of the potato pancake, watching Makoto's reaction to the blood sandwich first.

And then he's asked about his former partner, and he lets out a long, drawn out sigh.

"Business, all business. We were partners many years ago. Though, I had run into him a few times, briefly, before coming here." He takes another sip of the wine. "This isn't bad!" Then, he tries the potato pancake, nodding at how pleasant it is. Just as expected, really.

"He's a pain. Like I said, hopefully, he never shows up. He'll be loud enough to where you'd hear him as soon as he does, though."

Makoto accepts his drink and food back from Dazai and returns Dazai's plate to his side of the table. As his hands move, he's silent, keeping his eyes downward like he usually does when he's mulling something over in his head.

"What kind of business?" Makoto asks, looking back to Dazai. He knows very little about him, and at this point, he is pretty curious about him. His friend, if they're friends now, had an odd air about him from the moment they met, something Makoko couldn't quite put his finger on. "Did you part on friendly terms, or...?"

He'd already given out a bit too much information about his former line of work to Soren, so he figures there's little harm in discussing it with Makoto, as well.

Though, he'll still be careful not to give specifics.

"Information gathering, you could say." He has another bite, chewing as he thinks of his next words. "We didn't part on the best terms. I'd changed employers without informing him, so he still holds a bit of a grudge to this day." Which, of course, most wouldn't blame his former partner for. But Dazai didn't have much of a choice. He had to leave the Port Mafia to honor his late friend's last request.

Dazai's intentional vagueness manages to hide the truth only partially. Makoto levels his gaze at him, his expression neutral. Between everything he's seen and heard from him so far, he's certain now that Dazai was involved in something shady in his home world. He doesn't know what, or whether it'd be considered illegal or unethical by his world's standards, but whatever it was, it'd been the kind of profession that made a person keep their personal details close to them.

"Sounds dicey," he says, looking away for a moment to sip his cocktail. Maybe this is an opportunity to probe a little bit, if he can manage to do it subtly enough.

"Is that why you call yourself 'Osamu Dazai'? Like the author?" he asks suddenly. "I'd thought it sounded like an alias when you first told me."

He's going to continue to be vague, skirting the line between giving honest answers and answers that are slightly -- well, false. He doesn't want to say too much, even if he does like Makoto; the two of them haven't known each other for too long, though, and he's always been the type to keep many secrets, even with his closer friends.

He takes a bite of his sandwich and nods. "Mhm, yes. Very dicey." As he ponders how to change the topic a bit, he's told that his name sounds like an alias, and that causes him to snort out a laugh.

"An author? No, no. That's just my name! I've been called many different things, though, especially by those who find my presence a bit ...," He pauses to suck in a breath. "Obnoxious."

what is the sesame street number of the day??

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