It had been about a week since the explosion and Mello still wasn't entirely used to the new scar that graced a large part of his body. The pain, for example, though not nearly as crippling as the first day, still gave him a shock here and there. And only a few days ago had he finally mastered how far he could move that side of his face without slurring or stumbling over any words.
No, he wasn't entirely used to it, but he never spent time thinking about things he could regret. So instead he concentrated on breaking into Near's headquarters—poor security, he thought. Even an the most incompetent man in his mafia would have been able to break in.
He took Halle's help not because he wanted it, but because it was the smart thing to do. More than anyone he knew the benefits of having a man—or woman—on the inside.
This was one of the times Mello was exceptionally pleased to bear a scar. The SPK wasn't his home turf, and he was more on-edge than usual. Naturally he wanted to shoot everyone in the room. But the scar boosted his confidence. Near was the same curly-haired codependent child as the day they met, but he—he was a fighter who had grown up. He had done terrifying and powerful things. The evidence was on his face.
But of course this can't stop him from feeling toyed with by Near.