𝓢. Nakahara Chuya

Chuya was terribly tired at Port Mafia today. So much so that he didn't even seem to want any wine, which is surprising, of course.

Arriving home on what seemed like wobbly legs, the guy felt for the keys in his pocket and, opening the door and going into the hallway, leaned his back against the wall, feeling incredibly tired.

Nakahara took off his hat, hanging it on a hanger, and then began to pull off his gloves while his cloak slid off his shoulders.

His gaze was directed somewhere at the wall.