Matt looked over at Mello.
"What are you writing?"
Mello looked down at his notebook. "...the best dresser that died like a dog, Mihael Keehl."
"WHAT?!" Matt turned all the way around to face his room-mate, who was huddled over a desk, munching a bar of chocolate and scribbling furiously.
"I've decided to become a writer."
Matt just blinked and quirked an eyebrow. "You died like a dog?"
"I think I will, yeah. Does it sound weird?"
"A little."
"Well, at least you didn't make a comment about my saying I was 'best-dressed'." Mello grinned.
"How could I lie to you, Mr. Keehl?"