Long, slender fingers were apparently a great fidget toy. It's a boring day at the Agency, so of course, you and Dazai found yourselves in the closed off lounge, procrastinating.

Said brunet was busying himself reading that suicide book for the hundredth time. Was it really that good? You could only wonder. Meanwhile, you not so discreetly sat beside him—reaching for one of his hands.

Dazai had gotten used to you playing with hands, simply letting you do so without a word. It's become some sort of regular thing to happen now. A routine of you taking his unoccupied hand, playing with it for a while, before leaving.

It wasn't any different now. Although, he was curious what you found so interesting with them.