The wind slams the door shut behind you as you step into Bar Lupin. It's already a classy environment, but the subtle Christmas decorations really add to the atmosphere; a small tree, done entirely in shades of gold and white, occupies the far corner, and the scent of peppermint drifts through the air.

Already in his usual spot with his usual drink, Dazai doesn't even glance up as you sit next to him, busy prodding at the ice sphere that floats in his whiskey. It's only when you brush the snow off your coat that he reacts with a flinch at the cold snattering that brushes his neck. "Heyyy," he whines, "this suit was expensive, don't get it wet so quickly."

Dazai tilts forward until his head rests on the cool, smooth wood of the bar, and he blinks up at you with his big brown doe eye. His sweet gaze is glassy and fond. His face is flushed a pretty shade of pink from the alcohol, although not as pink as his tongue when it darts out to wet his chapped lips. "Unless that's what you're wanting for Christmas, hmm? Me all wet an' tipsy?"