[It was proper procedure for dates, but Muraki still couldn't sink entirely into the idea of being on a real date. He wasn't sure what it was: perhaps it was belated respect for his fiancée back home, or perhaps he didn't know Law well enough yet--or his passion was strong enough that putting a label on the situation made him feel less in control.

He was going to go with the fact that he doesn't know him well enough yet and allows Law to come closer.] So I imagine. As a doctor I'm sure you can sympathize with the dilemma of wearing a white coat as an endeavor to appear clean to your patients, but having such a messy profession, it soon becomes tainted by something or other. It's unavoidable. [And not just blood. Muraki never wanted children (the universe would also thank him for that), but he was probably prepared for it considering how many times he's been covered in other fluids during his career.]

It would be more logical to take a leaf from your book...[He approaches him.] Not to mention friendly to my wallet--but I am much too set in my ways, I'm afraid.

[The thought drifts absentmindedly as he slides his fingertips over the material of his sleeve, up to the edge of his shoulder. His eyes linger on his own knuckles.] It has. As I hope yours has been, as well.

[And Muraki won't admit to anything...so early in the evening.]