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Summary
"And that brings us to where we are now," there's a rhythm in his tone, sing-song and self-pitying. "On a deserted highway at three in the morning, driving a car with a suspended license. Riding next to the one person I swore to kill, a corpse sitting pretty in the backseat. Wrapped in my favourite coat, no less."
Shizuo laughs then, and it feels like it's tearing his throat. "We're dead men fucking walking,"
izaya has blood on his hands; shizuo has a suspended license and not much else to lose. they bury the hatchet.