His shirt is bright red on his left side and Kiyoomi knows he’s going to have to deal with it. But he’s already three glasses deep. “Omiiii, got a job fer ya—shit, are ya drunk?” “Go find someone else.” “No one else can stitch like ya. Come on Omi, I doubt Joffe wants blood all over his floor!”

“I’m drunk, Atsumu, I can’t help you right now.” Atsumu surveys the bar, finds few other customers. Suddenly, he grabs Kiyoomi’s hand to feel it. “Seems steady enough, come on then!” Kiyoomi hands looks blurry to him, and they certainly don’t feel steady. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”