“No I don’t drink after every heist.” He huffed playful. “Just some times. When the night are really cold, and the sky dark, and I come back here to an empty home.” He looked around his room for a minute and vanished into his memories some good some bad. He didn’t notice how he was slowly loosing his Poker Face with Hakuba. The emotions were playing so openly across his face.
Even that wasn’t really new for the detective, who had a collection of observations to draw from in terms of Kaito’s shifting moods and facades, though being this close to it was an experience all its own. Human intimacy was such a precarious thing. Hakuba let his smile tilt, brows creasing ever so slightly in commiserative sympathy.
“That sounds like me, really… only, I drink scotch nearly every night, it seems… more so, lately.” He chuckled, letting his own guard an inch. “It’s a lonely world, Kuroba-kun; particularly those with duties as ours. But as we’ve established now…” Hakuba moved to elbow him good-naturedly. “We don’t have to be completely alone. Or, at least, we could share the alcohol."