[Oh, he wants to roll his eyes. Guy knows his name. Big deal. Kira already has his face, as far as he's concerned. A brow arches and Mello sits up further, leans closer to the screen.]
Yeah, I know I'm pretty. [There's no teasing lilt to his words. It's simply a fact.]
[Anyone who stumbled on the dream would know it. Deidara doesn't exactly feel proud of the fact that he can remember. He snorts a bark of laughter at the comment, however.]
Also vain, hmn? [And just a little bit grumpy it seems.]
I'm not interested, [he states simply.] I don't think you're one of those future samurai. [And definitely not a shinobi.]
[That earns little more than a dismissive scoff as Mello glances away from the screen, preoccupied with the fact that he needs to clean himself up. Which he is in no way interested in having someone witness.]
You're also not a chick. [A hand comes up to wipe a wayward hair from his cheek.] And no. Not a samurai. That whole honorable suicide shit never made sense to me. [Getting out alive was always what mattered.]
That has to be it. Who the fuck has a mouth on them like that and isn't looking for trouble? Distance is definitely on this guy's side right now. He also isn't taking the civilian comment lightly. Civilians live out their lives, not fighting against shit. Mello fights against everything.]
Anyway. [Both legs slip over the side of the bed; the leather giving a little creaking sound as Mello stretches his back, then his neck, completely avoiding looking at the screen.] We ever run into each other, pretend you didn't see shit and we'll be good, yeah?
[Mello never was one to flash his piece around. It comes out when it needs to be used and stays tucked away, otherwise. This definitely isn't a situation that calls for it. Instead, he pushes himself up from the bed, giving the figure on the screen a pointed look.]
[Ok. Now it's impossible not to stare. And Mello does so. Blatantly. He bends down to lift the Hitomi, bringing it right up to his face so he can just...look.]
No. People don't have mouths on their hands where I come from.
...stressed a lot, hmn?
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Not your problem.
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Hardly.
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The fuck are you smilin' at?
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You, apparently, Mello.
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Yeah, I know I'm pretty. [There's no teasing lilt to his words. It's simply a fact.]
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Also vain, hmn? [And just a little bit grumpy it seems.]
I'm not interested, [he states simply.] I don't think you're one of those future samurai. [And definitely not a shinobi.]
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You're also not a chick. [A hand comes up to wipe a wayward hair from his cheek.] And no. Not a samurai. That whole honorable suicide shit never made sense to me. [Getting out alive was always what mattered.]
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Does that mean I should not find your dick being sucked sexy at all, hmn? [He shrugs. Gender doesn't really matter, not to him.] Maybe.
Heh, yeah. Dying is not very recommendable. A civilian then.
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That has to be it. Who the fuck has a mouth on them like that and isn't looking for trouble? Distance is definitely on this guy's side right now. He also isn't taking the civilian comment lightly. Civilians live out their lives, not fighting against shit. Mello fights against everything.]
Anyway. [Both legs slip over the side of the bed; the leather giving a little creaking sound as Mello stretches his back, then his neck, completely avoiding looking at the screen.] We ever run into each other, pretend you didn't see shit and we'll be good, yeah?
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Hope you never find out.
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That makes me think I do want to know.
[Pausing, he seems thoughtful for a moment, the palm-mouth smirks sharply, however.] Generally speaking ballistic weapons lack versatility, hmn.
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...]
What the fuck is that?
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Oh, right.
A shameless smirk by a palm mouth.]
I bet you've seen one before, hmn.
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No. People don't have mouths on their hands where I come from.
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