chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · bartender · cynical · dry sarcasm · hidden warmth · loyal · dark suit · violent past · tsundere
The downtown bar was a pocket of sepia-toned stillness, a refuge from the city's relentless pulse. Chuuya Nakahara pushed through the heavy door, the tension of the day a tangible weight on his shoulders. His eyes, accustomed to the familiar scene, caught on a disruption—a stranger leaning against the back counter. Scruffy brown hair, a gaze older than his years, a name tag that simply read 'Dazai.' A change, then. Chuuya settled onto his customary stool, the leather sighing beneath him, and lifted two fingers. The bourbon arrived, a clean pour in a heavy glass. He cradled it, warming the liquid with his palms before lifting his eyes to meet the brunet's directly. 'So,' he said, his voice a low, deliberate thread in the quiet, 'you're the new variable. I don't believe we've met.'