[Matt's wandering. The anger he felt since remembering his own death has burned out, leaving him aimless and empty. When he opens a door onto what looks like a bar, he doesn't particularly care if the room has an effect or not
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*When L steps into the room, the realization of where he is and the sinking feeling come in perfect tandem, and as the previous song ends, he feels himself being pulled up to the stage. Dragging his heels doesn't work.*
On the floor of Tokyo Or down in London town to go, go With the record selection With the mirror reflection I'm dancing with myself
When there's no-one else in sight In the crowded lonely night Well I wait so long For my love vibration And I'm dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself Oh dancing with myself Well there's nothing to lose And there's nothing to prove I'll be dancing with myself
If I looked all over the world And there's every type of girl But your empty eyes Seem to pass me by Leave me dancing with myself
So let's sink another drink 'Cause it'll give me time to think If I had the chance I'd ask the world to dance And I'll be dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself Oh dancing with myself Well there's nothing to lose And there's nothing to prove I'll be dancing with myself
*He finds himself bouncing on his toes as he sings in his soft baritone, and is relieved when the song ends, and he has control of his body again.*
["Dancing With Myself" -- Billy Idol! YouTube link.]
[Matt has a cigarette lit, of course, and a bottle of beer of his own and one open to offer to L, even though he doesn't know if he drinks beer, or anything at all.]
*He waves off the beer by raising the palm of his hand, then looks for cider behind the bar -- something sweeter, something more to his taste. He remembers the last time he had alcohol, and starts to blush a little, in spite of himself.*
I don't know it well. I think it was popular when I was very small -- do you know it?
They're like ghosts, only the mansion makes them, I bet. [He shrugs, as if it's not important, even though it is.] I wondered if you knew if the mansion made them.
I can't say that I am certain of it -- but yes, that would be my suspicion. Not much of that nature here is real. When there was a ghost, he behaved... differently.
-- He may still be here.
*A pause, during which he stares at Matt, and then -- *
It's a peculiar question, Matt. Why do you want to know?
[Now it's Matt's turn to take a long sip from his drink.]
I tried to talk to- somebody. [Because it's not obvious at all who that might be; way to be discreet, Matt. It probably isn't obvious that "talk to" is code for "yell at."] It wasn't very, ah, enlightening.
*He has some idea, but feigning ignorance seems like the better path, at the moment; he takes another long pull of his cider, eyes still boring into Matt.*
I remembered dying. And I didn't know for sure if he was- [He stops, lights a new cigarette from the one he has, and crushes the old one out in an ashtray on the bar.]
I just wanted to know. But it's like... even if I'd gotten an answer, I wouldn't be able to believe it, yeah?
On the floor of Tokyo
Or down in London town to go, go
With the record selection
With the mirror reflection
I'm dancing with myself
When there's no-one else in sight
In the crowded lonely night
Well I wait so long
For my love vibration
And I'm dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
Well there's nothing to lose
And there's nothing to prove
I'll be dancing with myself
If I looked all over the world
And there's every type of girl
But your empty eyes
Seem to pass me by
Leave me dancing with myself
So let's sink another drink
'Cause it'll give me time to think
If I had the chance
I'd ask the world to dance
And I'll be dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
Well there's nothing to lose
And there's nothing to prove
I'll be dancing with myself
*He finds himself bouncing on his toes as he sings in his soft baritone, and is relieved when the song ends, and he has control of his body again.*
["Dancing With Myself" -- Billy Idol! YouTube link.]
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I kinda love that song, man.
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I don't know it well. I think it was popular when I was very small -- do you know it?
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Yeah, sure. Billy Idol. I don't even know the one it made me sing.
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*he replies, with a sigh, uncapping the cider he's found.*
I don't know it either. To be honest, I do not know most of the songs this room has made people sing.
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[It's possible Matt has been into a stash of alcohol before this room provided him with beer.]
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No -- not really.
*This is an understatement, and apart from that -- *
Also, I dislike noise. Most music is too distracting... recently, however, I have been learning to play the piano.
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[He flips his cigarette around between his fingers.] Hey, have you ever been in that room with the trains, and the... people?
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*He frowns at Matt, taking a long pull of the cider, a line appearing between his eyebrows.*
-- It doesn't sound familiar. Why are you asking?
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-- He may still be here.
*A pause, during which he stares at Matt, and then -- *
It's a peculiar question, Matt. Why do you want to know?
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I tried to talk to- somebody. [Because it's not obvious at all who that might be; way to be discreet, Matt. It probably isn't obvious that "talk to" is code for "yell at."] It wasn't very, ah, enlightening.
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If you wanted to talk to Mello, there are any number of living versions here.
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*He has some idea, but feigning ignorance seems like the better path, at the moment; he takes another long pull of his cider, eyes still boring into Matt.*
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I just wanted to know. But it's like... even if I'd gotten an answer, I wouldn't be able to believe it, yeah?
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