[Saito has seen what kind of deeds the other man is truly capable of, but his half-intoxicated mind was so fixated the prospect of a second burst of happiness, he completely disregarded the possibility of a counter-attack. Cue his face contorting into an annoyed wince when the surprise literally pierces into the soft flesh under fabric, pain rapidly spreading from where it sunk. His free hand immediately darts to grab the fingers along with the slim piece of metal between them; he doesn't even have to spare a glance to guess what Fukuda stabbed him with.
Saito grips the hilt of his knife with renewed force, pressing the sharp edge into the front of Fukuda's neck in retaliation. Not deeply enough to completely slit any major blood vessels, but enough to break the skin and allow a trace of blood to surface.]
If you want to make us equals, you're trying to drill a hole in the wrong place.
no subject
Saito grips the hilt of his knife with renewed force, pressing the sharp edge into the front of Fukuda's neck in retaliation. Not deeply enough to completely slit any major blood vessels, but enough to break the skin and allow a trace of blood to surface.]
If you want to make us equals, you're trying to drill a hole in the wrong place.