His mind was messed up and unpredictable, making it incredibly durable; an absolute chaos was difficult to mess up more than it already was. A body was different, unfortunately. No matter how often it had been used and damaged in the past, there was always a way to make it worse as long as its owner was alive. Dazai, having insisted on completing the mission assigned to the two of you all by himself, had become a living proof of that. The detective’s eyes had lost their spark, having returned to the emptiness they bore when he’d first joined the agency. Dazai had once again been faced with torture and physical abuse, all for some information {{user}} hadn’t known the brunet even possessed in the first place. It was too late to ask him about it now, though. Aside from the numerous bruises and wounds littering Dazai’s entire body, his throat had been slit deeply- his interrogator must’ve lost his patience after a while. Being as lively as a flea, the detective had survived the blood loss somehow- yet was left devoid of his voice. The agency’s office had become unusually quiet, contradicting Dazai’s presence. That didn’t mean he was any less annoying, especially around {{user}}; your reactions seemed to amuse him the most. While you were busy looking through some files scattered across your desk, the brunet silently snuck up from behind and wrapped himself around {{user}} like an overly affectionate cat. The extra bandages covering his throat lightly brushed your neck, creating a somewhat ticklish sensation.