[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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[He swims closer.]
Just... I don't trust this place.
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Afraid of drowning?
[A small tilt of his head and Mello catches himself staring again. It's so goddamn hard. His natural instinct tells him to snag Matt by the hem of his boxers and pull him close but this isn't Matt. Not really, anyway.
He subtly urges himself back a foot or two, keeping his eyes on the other the entire time.]
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[He's having trouble keeping conversation linear. That cognac must have had a delayed reaction.]
Not afraid. 'm already dead, y'know.
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Yeah...[He glances away, pretending that something to the right interests him. Stupid. There's nothing there but more ocean.] So we should keep going, then.
[Another partially-sincere smile and he's off, opting to stay above the water, this time.]
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'm not your Matt. [It seems important to say, though he's not sure why.] And, and that's okay.
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No shit.
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[Maybe it's better to just swim for a horizon they'll probably never reach. He'd say "Okay, shutting up now," if it wouldn't defeat the purpose.]
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Didn't mean to snap, man. [He sucks at apologies.]
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[He easily translates the apology from Mello-ese, and ducks under the water again, to clear his head as much as he can.]
Just a way this place fucks with you.
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Has it ever, y'know, actually driven anyone nuts?
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[He relaxes a little. This feels like safer territory.]
The batshit ones were that way when they got here, y'know?
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[Unless he keeps listening to everyone's stories about how Kira got the fucken best of them. That, in itself, is enough to piss Mello off to the point of not giving a fuck. And when Mello doesn't give a fuck, crazy shit happens.]
Your M-[Better to change the subject, even if it's only mildly.] How long's he been gone, now?
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[Except Matt, and maybe that one Light, but he hasn't seen Light in a while.]
'bout a month, I guess. Left me a note. [It's in his jeans pocket, back on shore.] An' something else. [But Matt's concentrating on staying afloat, and can't show Mello the scar on his palm.] How come?
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Maybe he'll come back, eventually. [Mello's not sure why he said that, exactly. A sad attempt at reassurance, probably.
He swallows, turning back onto his stomach and glances out over the distance. It seems like the ocean is never ending but, well, they've only been swimming for while and what kind of bullshit idea was this, anyway? Even in a normal ocean, it would be a dipshit move to see if you could reach the end.]
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[He's resigned to this. The mansion may fuck with people, but it did give him fair warning about his future, in its way.]
I don' 'member you from the fake memories.
[Which is Matt's own stab at reassurance.]
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