[Matt's looking for someone while trying to pretend to himself and the mansion that he's not, and the show of exaggerated casualness he's putting on has gotten him in trouble before. It's not so bad this time, he thinks at first. This room's like a library, but all the volumes on the shelves are self-help books. There's a computer monitor in the
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The scowl is secret, barely there; something about this situation makes him want to decapitate small children and kittens. On the nametag, the text reads:
HI! My problem is: I still don't believe I'm dead.]
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We're in the same boat, then. Only I want you to have to believe yours without it meaning I have to believe mine.
[He takes a step back from Light. He didn't mean to say that.]
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You need to forget them. They aren't important, and it's unlikely they'll return. The place is a revolving door, but it's stupid to count on that.
[That he did not expect. It's honest advice, but indicative of how little he values personal attachments.]
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[It's blurted out, but in Matt's usual way of letting his mouth get ahead of his brain.]
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[Probably better than you do, it wouldn't surprise me.]
Anyway, I shouldn't make too much of it. The stickers aren't true.
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[He takes a long drag on his cigarette.]
And I don't see one between the two of us that's a lie.
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[His tone's sneering; he really isn't interested in Matt's boring love life. The advice he's giving is honest enough, though - precisely because he thinks Matt won't take it.]
There's nothing about this - [one finger taps on his sticker] that I need to believe. I know it's true. I was there.
[Realising what he's done, he looks down at the sticker with a quirked eyebrow.]
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Yeah, well, I know I'm dead, but that doesn't mean I grok it. ...fuck.
[Muttering the last; he didn't mean to say that either.]
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[Distracted by the sticker, it comes off as disdain. As for "grok", Heinlein is another author Light's never got around to - but he's picked the word up in quite another context.]
You're talking about the distinction between knowledge and acceptance? It seems an overrated thing.
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The room doesn't think it's overrated. It made both our stickers about it, yeah?
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[It's not quite acid, before it softens back to silk.]
On a more general scale, the fact that you're here at all should be proof enough, isn't that right?
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[He frowns, flipping his cigarette around between his fingers.] What the hell does that mean?
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[For all that there's only one piece of information any of them need - Light is Kira - he's not fool enough - humble enough? - to think any of them wouldn't dearly love to know more.]
What, you can't work it out? If I didn't care for people, you wouldn't be here at all, Matt. There would have been no Kira supporters to kill you.
[Odd, that. It's too level, trips off his tongue too rhythmically, almost as if he didn't approve.]
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[It's snippy, as he turns his back to walk away; what most see as his egomania crushing the world, Light sees as recognition for his accomplishments, and gratitude; nothing but what he deserves. I'll do so much that they'll have to worship me; there'll be no choice. What I'm doing makes me a god.]
I shan't get in between you and your prejudices any longer. Find yourself a corner to cry in.
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