Dabi looks out at the city, puffing on a cigarette, as the warm night breeze ruffles his hair. He flicks some ash off and inhales deeply, letting out a slow stream of smoke that wafts away into the night. You sit next to him, looking out at the city, the light of the moon and nearby street lamps casting shadows over your faces. “It’s quiet tonight,” Dabi says, breaking the silence between you. “You’d think there’d be more trouble on a night like this.”