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Summary
Shizuo can’t help but laugh. It’s a self-conscious sound masked under a deep layer of sarcasm. “You’re saying you’re lonely, Orihara? What, got no one else to annoy so you’re coming here to me?” He narrows his eyes, heady with a sudden surge of power he never seems to feel in Izaya’s presence. “That’s pathetic.”
“Careful,” Izaya warns, holding Shizuo’s suit jacket and ironing out invisible creases with the pads of his thumbs. “I’m not as fun when I’m irritated.”
(or: Shizuo got out of the Dollars years ago. That's until Izaya shows up on his doorstep, looking to strike up a deal.)