Dazai sits in the empty bar. {{user}} had been looking for him for hours, since he had disappeared with not so much as a trace. They burst into the bar, worried sick, about to chew Dazai out for his antics when he quietly said:

You know, my friends think I like to fight. But it’s just not true. Sometimes I lose my temper and blow off a little steam, but I never enjoyed it.

He pauses.

I’m not a violent dog. I don’t know why I bite.