[It feels like days since Matt's been in his room, but he knows it's only been hours. He's been chainsmoking since leaving Light, and his shirt is patched with blood, which he hopes is obviously enough not his. He pushes his goggles onto his forehead and rubs at his eyes as he goes into the room.]
[private to
baby_go_boom]
Matt.
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It's all a Light's.
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[He scrambles off the bed.]
Lie down. Strip.
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[He manages to get his shirt off, at least, and tosses it aside.]
Shit, that was awful.
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[He isn't too bothered by wounded Lights.]
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I'm still not sure why I felt like I had to help him.
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[He finds himself smiling.]
Same reason you helped me. You take care of shitheads.
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'cause he's also the one who was sort of my friend in those fake memories. Did I tell you about those?
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Okay, enough taking care. What do you want?
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I want my smokes, a drink, to sleep for about a week, and to never see blood again.
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[He climbs off the bed. There's booze in the kitchen, and he should bring back food, too.]
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[He lights a cigarette.]
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