quietmounds | (no subject)

[ wary for a moment before the expression is neutral again, and he offers his hand back to Mori ]

It is going to be difficult to kick such a habit.

[ he takes his hand, holding his middle finger ready ]

... it will be.

[ and picks up the bottle again to drink. A long. Drink. ]

[ snaps that middle finger and then twists, as if making it extra unpleasant because it's extra long. ]

[ thanks

He does make a sound at that, a soft pained noise that is only barely kept muffled by the fact The bottle is still in his mouth. Then his whole body flinches, the whiskey is set back on the table but he doesn’t let go of it, gripping the bottle instead so hard his knuckles go white ]

[ he pauses then, keeping Dazai's hand in his own but watching him. he's not asking if he wants to stop, just waiting to see if he takes another drink. ]

[ a slow breath

and he

takes another drink ]

[ he yanks that same poor finger backwards, stretching the skin and bone back over the back of Dazai's hand as if he would try to get them flat together. ]

[ wow

that sure is a whimper and he practically slams the bottle down on the table, leaning with his weight against it, as if that will ground him and while he doesn't try to pull his hand back, it's mostly because that hurts and it's sickening, something in his stomach is rolling unpleasantly, after the whimper there's a gasped inhale, rough with nausea ]

[ he lets off on the finger then - - letting it go back in place though it's most definitely crooked as all hell at this point. he's taking a seat opposite for him tote a better look at his face.

And again, he's waiting to see if Dazai drinks. ]

[ he's very pale, and his hand with the broken fingers shakes and he rests that wrist on the table edge, keeping the fingers off of it. there's a definite anxiety to his expression, even though his jaw is set, eyes dart back and forth across the table, not at Mori

but his hand hurts and he feels sick and the best way to deal with that is to take a drink -- but there's a hesitation, even as he lifts the bottle off the table top and drinks, ]

This will be a good lesson, won't it?

[ as Dazai drinks he moves to break the next finger, smoothly, without any hesitation on his end. at this point that hand is probably in a pretty bad state. ]

[ he doesn't answer that, having preemptively bitten down on the bottle neck, wincing as his teeth grind into the glass and his eye squeezes shut.

his hand hurts, he's drunk enough that he doens't feel it should register as sharply as it does. each breath has a bit of a shudder to it and when he puts the bottle down on the table, he doesn't let go again but his posture shifts forward, shoulders hunching

nods dumbly twice ]

Now... Do you think that's enough?

[ he holds his hand loosely, even if any contact at this point is likely overwhelming with how mangled it is. He's not going to take hold of another finger unless Dazai wants to continue. ]

[ the fucked up hand shakes and dazai lets go of the bottle, he nods again ]

Would you like to try again, with the wine? Or do you think you've earned a break.

[ that idea shakes him a little. he shouldn't. but he's already in this far isn't he? it's kind of stabilizing in a way. action, consequence. cause, effect. his mind can only focus on three things -- the pain in his hand, the taste of alcohol in his mouth, mori.

his voice is quiet and a little strained when he replies ]

Yes.

To the wine, or to the break?

[ but as if he's already guessed he's grabbing the bottle, moving to pour a glass of it. ]

Wine.

[ as. mori guessed. dazai looks at his hand, it looks... not good and he knows he's running out of fingers and he would really rather avoid further abusing the ones that were already broken but, ]

Were you very attached to your fingernails?

[ you know, idly, as he slides the glass over towards him. ]

[ uh, ]

. . . no, I'm not. . .

[ now he's. more apprehensive, but his voice stays even and he picks up the glass to take a drink but his eyes are locked on Mori ]

Well, there's that option. I could keep breaking fingers too but we would run out, it would be very hard for you to drink. And I'd prefer not to make too much of a mess.

[ of course, his choice. looks down into the wine ]

That's fine.

[ of course ]

Your nails, or your fingers are?

. . . my nails.