[This is absolutely mockery, and it's definitely on purpose. Some of the last things Masaomi saw before falling to hell were Aoba and that damn shark mask. If sharks are Aoba's aesthetic, then he can own it in the most humiliating way possible.

Maybe if he looks stupider, Masaomi will want to beat him less.

He folds his arms over his chest, ignoring the beads of blood smeared into his skin as he watches Aoba shove the hoodie on over his clothes. Masaomi knows that's not going to cut it for the club staff - the theme is less clothing, not more - but if Aoba is determined to play this game, he'll let him. He really isn't going to intervene if someone comes by and yanks Aoba's pants down.

He'll just snap a photo.]

You remember that night, when Mikado lit that guy on fire. You were there. [Not like Izaya.] You're going to tell me what he was trying to do, and why he wanted your help instead of mine.

Your answer's gonna determine whether you walk out of this club in one piece.