[ When he makes his way to the Gilded Cage, it isn't without some trepidation. He's well aware of his limitations when it comes to people—he brings with him an inflexible sense of ego and an inclination towards honesty that can be as scathing as it is clueless. He's clueless: there are too many thought processes he doesn't understand and can't work out on the spot, and they turn him confused instead, defensive instead, pissed off instead. The last time he'd found Dabi drinking, he became imbued with a painful awareness how unsuited he is for this, as much as he tries otherwise. There's nothing short of a dozen ways this could go wrong, that he could say the wrong thing in ways he can't even predict, and those possibilities circle his mind as relentless buzzards as he steps onto the floor housing the restaurant.
The only thing he has going for him is that he's not easily turned away from what he's already decided he has to do. He has no idea of where to start or what he might say once they begin talking (if they even will); he can only hope they won't start off poorly again, that he can play this by ear well enough to... give Dabi what he needs. Whatever he needs. Easier said than done, when it sounded Dabi himself probably didn't even know.
Once inside the lavish surroundings of the Gilded Cage, he Searches Dabi out from the crowd gathered for the high-flying guest's extravagance. Once he's locked on to his target, he moves in, pushing through bodies to slot himself right between two bar stools carrying Dabi and another guest. It doesn't matter to Tomura if they were talking or not—whenever he sees Dabi, he wants to take up his attention as wholly as he can. Tomura sighs, a small breath of air that puffs through his nose. ]
Drinking by yourself? Handsome.
[ It doesn't sound flirtatious coming from him. It sounds monotonous, but it might do the trick anyway. ]
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The only thing he has going for him is that he's not easily turned away from what he's already decided he has to do. He has no idea of where to start or what he might say once they begin talking (if they even will); he can only hope they won't start off poorly again, that he can play this by ear well enough to... give Dabi what he needs. Whatever he needs. Easier said than done, when it sounded Dabi himself probably didn't even know.
Once inside the lavish surroundings of the Gilded Cage, he Searches Dabi out from the crowd gathered for the high-flying guest's extravagance. Once he's locked on to his target, he moves in, pushing through bodies to slot himself right between two bar stools carrying Dabi and another guest. It doesn't matter to Tomura if they were talking or not—whenever he sees Dabi, he wants to take up his attention as wholly as he can. Tomura sighs, a small breath of air that puffs through his nose. ]
Drinking by yourself? Handsome.
[ It doesn't sound flirtatious coming from him. It sounds monotonous, but it might do the trick anyway. ]