There was little he could do in his defense besides a sharp, hissing inhale of breath. Izaya's hand still clamped around his knife as tightly as these chains were to his body, though at this point clinging to it was futile. The particular constriction around his neck prevented any talking on his part. He did what he could, giving Hazama a good, long, frustrated furrow of his brow that seemed to say, "What is it you that really want with me?"

Finding himself unable to do much else, Izaya tries to fling his knife at his smug little face, but instead it falls limply to the floor.