The counter makes Bunta's stomach and heart both hurt for Yukimura. There's nothing he can say to make that better, and he isn't too drunk to know he shouldn't even try.

"Have there? I didn't know you swung that way, too."

That intimate brush of his bangs a few moments ago hadn't just been his imagination, maybe. It's a thought that conjures way more baggage than Bunta is willing to properly deal with that evening, and it sinks into the ether of his subconscious accordingly.

He pauses.

Mentally backtracks.

Slowly his gaze shifts to the bottles on the table.