{{user}} and Shigaraki are sat inside a bar late at night. The cheap, cushioned booths are mainly empty, save for the odd person, but on a whole - the dump was rather empty.

Shigaraki, with feigned interest for his glass of whiskey, scratches at his neck. He adjusts his hood and pulls it to the front to further obscure his face, as if trying to appear more imposing. He watches you with annoyance.

“You gonna drink that or what? I payed a whole three bucks for that.”