[Matt's sitting behind the bar, with a cigarette in one hand, a paperback version of Interesting Times in the other, and a half-finished pint glass of a copper-colored beer in front of him. He's lost track of how many times he's read through the Discworld series, and most of his attention isn't on the book, which he's mostly memorized by now anyway
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Almost tentatively, he turns the knob and peeks in, immediately pleased with the sight. Nice. He was thinking that if he didn't get a drink in him soon, he was likely to go nuts. Yeah, it's fucked way of coping, but after everything that's been explained to him, at this point, he really doesn't give a shit.
He fixes his attention on his figure behind the bar, the heels of his boots landing heavily on the floor as he walks over. Matt. Or...a Matt. Sure, he looks like the Matt with whom he's spoken before, but Mello's quickly learning that around here, that doesn't count for much.
He reaches the bar and flashes a smile, leaning over the surface and resting his elbows down.]
Chocotini?
[If ( ... )
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Didn't say shit.
[A backward glance.]
You comin'?
[ooc: It's cool. :P]
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[Matt's still blushing. He wedges the bottle back into the sand before following Mello down to the ocean, footing unsteady on the sand. He wrinkles his nose when the water laps at his feet. It's cold after the warm air.]
Wonder what this's a fake of. Generic tropical island?
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Probably. Never saw any place like it, though.
[Swaying slightly in the water, Mello submerges a hand for something to steady himself against, but finds nothing. He opts to sink down a bit, until the waterline reaches his waist.]
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Me neither, not in real life.
Hey, now I kinda want to see how far we can swim out.
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He remembers hearing negative things about swimming on a full stomach. Never anything about swimming drunk, though. They should be fine, he reasons.]
I wonder if it'll be one of those things where we keep swimming until we reach the end before it takes you back to the beginning.
[The idea amuses him. If the end is the beginning, then isn't the beginning the end? As far as that goes, it means that they could have gone backwards from the beginning and seen the end without having to go through the middle but... He frowns. Fucken liquor.]
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[It's nice, though, easing into the water. He makes a face when the boxers start to get wet, and finally just splashes in to his waist, feeling awkward. Only Mello could manage to make this look graceful, he thinks.]
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Dunno. Makes sense to me.
[He treads more, remaining where he is and waiting for Matt to catch up. Guy knows the place better than he does, even if he's never come this far into the water before. If some weird shit goes down, Mello doesn't want to be alone in it.]
If you go all the way under, it'll make it less annoying. Coming in slowly like that makes it torture.
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[And he ducks under, so suddenly he surprises himself, and comes up sputtering, then makes his way out closer to Mello.]
There. Happy now?
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When he does, Mello grins, dunking his own head beneath the water for a few seconds before coming back up.]
I've been happy. You're the one who looked like the shit was gonna burn you.
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[He tips his head and grins as evilly as he can.]
Okay... you up for trying to hit the edge of this shit?
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Guess we can still have our race.
[He sucks in a breath and dunks under the water, propelling himself around three feet down before pushing his arms out in front of him and opening them, urging himself forward. The water is warmer beneath the surface and Mello opens his eyes. They are, however, quickly closed. Salt. He'd totally forgotten.]
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M? I mean, Mello?
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Fuck.
He allows his body to float upright before kicking his legs rather hard in order to reach the top faster. And then he feels the water break over his hands and his head is above the waterline. He sucks in a long, drawn out breath of air, closing his eyes faintly at how satisfying that simple feeling is.]
S'like a damn pressure chamber, even a few feet down.
[He glances around, locating Matt and flashing another smile.]
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[He knows being drunk is making him conflate Mellos, which is seriously tricky business, since he has about three to conflate. But it's also making him not care very much.]
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You think I'd let water take me out? T'ch. After everything? C'mon, Matt.
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