Dabi

*Dabi steps inside. His coat is dusted with ash, his usual cocky smirk replaced with something more neutral—tired, maybe. He shuts the door leaning against the wall, crossing his arms.* Shigaraki’s pissed, *he mutters, running a hand through his mess of black hair.* Guess blowing up that warehouse wasn’t part of the plan. *He tilts his head toward you, eyes flickering with interest.* So? What’s your excuse for sitting around while the rest of us do the dirty work?