ni.
Mello hadn't really needed Matt's approval, but he felt as though it helped. Following without consent could probably get bothersome, and would only spur another needless argument. It made him wonder: which of them was the one who initiated these petty fights? It could have been Mello, of course, knowing his need to be the best, but knowing Matt's fracturing moods...it was a conundrum, and he had a really strong urge to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. And meanwhile, beat Near at his own game.
It seemed like a fair deal on his end, but then again, when the plans were first formulated in his mind, they always seemed that way. It was later on when they went awry.
"Thanks," he said hollowly, not bothering to fix his own appearance. There wasn't much to fix with leather.
Walking out of the apartment, into the elevator, out the lobby and onto the streets, dressed the way they were, they definitely made for an odd-looking pair. Matt would like to believe that it was a good sort of odd, though—he'd never admit it, but he very much liked looking nice.
Matt breathed a curl of smoke into the autumn air, tainting it alongside all the other city pollutions.
"Since when did we start getting like this?" he questioned Mello, wondering if the other knew the answers any better than he did. Probably not. But still, it was worth asking. Surely Mello knew that they had always been easy with each other in Wammy's—despite Mello's attitude and all, they'd never been so...snappish.
The question took him slightly off-guard. They had both been thinking it, of course, wondering, but he had never expected either of them to bring it up vocally. It was just natural for them to keep all that confusing shit about themselves buried in the dark recesses of their minds. Still, he was glad he hadn't been the one to say it first. He just wasn't the first to initiate those kinds of things.
"Like what?" he asked, not daring to look at the other. "Hating each other's guts at random intervals?" Mello shrugged one slender shoulder. "How should I know?"
Matt smiled bemusedly, breathing out another curl of smoke before he brought the cigarette back to his lips again, letting it sit there so he could stick his hands into his pockets.
"Yeah," he answered half-heartedly. Maybe he shouldn't have brought it up after all. Then again, he was the one with the crazy mood swings, if he hadn't brought it up, Mello definitely wouldn't have. Although perhaps that was for the best?
"I don't know." Matt finally responded with a noncommittal shrug. "I was just thinking."
"Oh, really?"
And there went Mello's stupid remarks again. He couldn't help it. It was in his nature, and besides, it was now almost a reflex. "You think? Amazing."
Fuck. And now he knew why they were like that. Even he'd get pissed on occasion if someone constantly talked to him like he did Matt. But was he beyond swallowing his pride? Sighing, the male decided that, just this once, he would give in. Just once.
"Shit, sorry, Matt. I guess it's a habit." A stupid one, just like smoking.
Matt's lips clamped hard around the cigarette. He took a deep breath in, air coming straight through the filter. He held the breath before exhaling through the corner of his mouth. So this was why. They were constantly at each other's necks—Matt pushing the boundaries, Mello pushing the buttons. They were like a fucking time bomb.
He nearly muttered 'you don't mean it' to Mello, but even if he didn't—it had to mean something that Mello had even managed to apologize without retching sarcasm on their shoes. "Its fine," he answered with a clip in his words.
There was a long silence. It was unsettling for some reason. And, as Mello did best, he blamed Near. If that brat wasn't in the way, there would be no need for tension. There would be no rush. Half his fucking side wouldn't be singed off. Blaming people seemed to be what he did best, alongside shooting people in the face. He wanted end this stupid feud with Matt. He was already fighting with Near, he didn't need another enemy.
"Really," he said, feeling his obstinate pride ebb away. That stupid red-haired smoker owed him big time... "I'm sorry."
Matt was tempted to quip back something else at Mello-- something to the effect of 'are you?', but he decided to lay off. If Mello could be apologetic, Matt could put aside what part of him that was actually confrontational. He wasn't normally much of one to own up to his problems, but Mello kind of threw everything out of junction for him. A great way to feel about your best friend, really. Matt finished off his cigarette and dropped it to the ground, putting it out with a grind in his step as he continued on.
"You know, I never thought I'd see the day you meant that," Matt commented, but he didn't mean any harm by it. "Maybe you are sick."
"Probably," said Mello morosely, watching the ground out cigarette apathetically. Okay, he had said it; however, there was no was he'd say it again. One of those genuine apologies, or even a sentimental word without malicious intent, was a once in a lifetime thing for the blonde. He was absolutely adamant that this would remain true, though was known to betray himself. Chocolate. That's what he needed...and then he'd be fine. Just fine.
"I just need sustenance." And by sustenance, he meant that muddy brown sweet that made him somewhat content with life.
Matt chuckled at the other's apparent solution for his troubles—chocolate it was. He pushed his way through a candy shop's doors—there were grocery stores closer to home, but he'd picked this place because...well. It was dumb, but it made him feel something like a kid. Matt would never admit this out loud. If anyone asked, it was so he could pick up some fireballs for himself.
"Here we are, then. Get some chocolate so you'll be to your right, bitter mind again," Matt invited, looking around the sweets shop. Everywhere there were glass jars variously filled with different kinds of coloured candy. It was easy to see why Matt liked the store—it was like a psychedelic candy trip. If anything, the bright colours were almost reminiscent of a video game.
If you looked close enough, you'd see that flash of giddiness behind Mello's eyes. It was another rare occurrence; he was full of them these days. So much so that he doubted he could control it, and was suddenly suspicious as to whether Matt's mood swings were contagious. Maybe he just needed something to shoot. He resolved to go somewhere in the backlot and set up a pillowcase with a face drawn on it. That would assuage his fractured mind.
Somehow, the idea of Mello unloading a cartridge into a smiling pillowcase was more amusing than the thought of Mello having a childish delight over candy. Then again, they both seemed to be equally bizarre.
The male stomped nonchalantly over to a shelf of them, deciding that he'd pay Matt back if he ever got the chance (given that he hated being in anyone's debt), and scooped up a stack. It should last him for at least a week, or maybe more, if he was careful. Well, he probably wouldn't be careful. That would be a problem if he got into a situation where he couldn't leave the apartment, which was where he was headed.
In the meanwhile, Matt was busy gathering some sour gummy worms and the small, red, cinnamon-coated candy that he quite enjoyed. Tying his star-spangled bag with a silver twist-tie, Matt turned back to Mello to see him holding an armload of chocolate bars. Chuckling, he nodded to the register and headed over to pay.
"So how long is that going to last you?" he questioned, knowing quite well that it wouldn't last long at all.
"A week," he answered automatically. "But I wouldn't count on it too much."
He added in that last part as a precautionary measure, knowing that if he got feverish enough, he'd eat the whole bunch within a few days. Just a hazard of having a sweet tooth, even though he wasn't a big fan of any other form of sugary substance. Not like L used to be.
Shrugging it off and rolling his eyes to the ceiling, he dumped the chocolate on the counter. There was a hell of a lot of perks to living with someone who would freely pay for anything and do whatever he was told. Although Mello still wanted to know why he did that, he wasn't nearly as bothered now. As long as he got what he wanted, he could've cared less.
The girl behind the counter eyed the couple of them warily as she rung them up-- they weren't exactly the kind of people that you expected to walk into a candy store and by a week's worth of chocolate and a little bag of assorted candies. Matt tapped his fingers against the counter to indicate that he was waiting, please, ring them up just a little bit faster and quit gawking. The girl did. He handed over a few bills-- probably larger than the normal person spent on candy-- took the grocery bag that the candy was swept into, and handed it to Mello.
Yes, he was paying; no, he was not carrying the bag.
What he did take out, though, was his little star-covered bag of candy. The bell overhead jangled as they headed back out onto the streets. "Satiated now?"
A sickening smile crossed Mello's face, and he dug out a bar of chocolate before wrapping off the wrapper and taking off a piece between his front teeth. The familiar taste washed over his senses and coaxed a satisfied aura from the blonde male. He ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth marks, already calmed by the sweet.
"Very," he answered, now deciding against the shooting of random pillowcases. Maybe later, when he had a marker and some free time. Which he probably wouldn't have soon, given his dedication to the Kira case. And the Kira case would probably lead him to shoot more than just inanimate objects...
As long as Mello didn't shoot Matt, the red-head didn't really care who he shot. Contenting himself to bite off the head (or tail end) of a sour gummy worm, Matt looked at Mello for a second, the gummy candy still poking out between his lips. "You know," he began, plucking the remaining half of the worm free with his fingers, "we look really funny walking down the street."
Indeed they did; Mello greedily devouring his chocolate, dressed in leather, and Matt decapitating candy worms, clad in a fuzzy vest and goggles. "I wonder why the hell we think we're so badass." Aside from Mello's shooting people, they didn't really seem all that menacing.
Mello started laughing. There was a dark note about the laughter, as if he was incapable of anything pure, but it was an undoubtedly amused laugh. He brought another chunk of chocolate to his lips uncaringly.
"Because we are badass, Matt," he said. But he was right; it was hard not to draw a stare or two the way they were. Not that Mello cares much. They could just go fuck themselves. He would wear what he wanted, and eat what he wanted, and if they didn't like that, that was their problem. "Or at least, I am." He looked the other over, mirth ghosting over his eyes. "I don't know about you.
Matt blinked in surprise when Mello cracked up laughing—that was the last thing that he expected to hear from the other, but he supposed that in a comical situation, Mello was liable to laugh.
"Oh shut up," he grumbled at the other, throwing the remainder of the worm at the blonde's head.
"I have to be pretty damn badass to throw a gummy worm at your head and not get mine shot off," he pointed out—and this was true. Then again, Matt had to be pretty badass to get away with a lot of the things he managed to get away with around Mello.
"Touché," he shot back, glaring in disdain at the fallen candy and laughing slightly again, before letting that die down. "But it's a shame, you bastard, because in a couple of minutes you'll be pissed at me again. Maybe we should buy you some birth control pills." He smiled at his own jest. It was the least he could do, since this would probably provoke no happy reaction from the other. Or maybe he'd just roll his eyes and take out another cigarette.
Just keep your candy to yourself, and I'll keep my bullets to myself...mused Mello.
Matt groaned, chucking a snowcap at the other this time around. "I don't need to up my levels of estrogen," he assured the blonde, grimacing slightly at the thought.
He pulled out a cigarette while they were still in the open air and therefore less likely to be subject to Mello's complaining about his smoking habit. "You on the other hand, I don't know...Temper, temper." Matt mused, lighting up.
"Ah, fuck you," he said, deciding against throwing anything of his own. Chocolate was too precious for that. "I don't need this from a man on his period."
He took an abnormally large bite out of the bar, staring down at it to find only a quarter gone. Well, that was less than he usually ate in such a short period of time. Mello narrowed his eyes at the cigarette, but let it go. They were outside, after all, and as long as he didn't rub the putrid thing in his face, he could more or less ignore its presence.
Only the smell of flavoured nicotine kept it at the front of the older male's mind.
Matt groaned, shaking his head and tucking his candy away into his pocket. He wasn't about to mix the flavour of cigarettes with candy—that was just asking for poisoning.
Breathing a long exhale of relief, he stuck his free hand into his pocket and took a detour away from the route to his apartment. "I don't want to go back yet," he explained, although he really wasn't sure where he wanted to go either. It wasn't like they could freely waltz about—Mello was a wanted criminal, and if anything, they might give away their location to the other sides of the Kira hunt. Matt, nevertheless, was going to deem this 'break time' and was going to take advantage of it.
Mello would be damned before he would worry unduly about getting caught. The chance was low that Kira or a member of the SPK was lurking around here. He couldn't be completely sure, however, so he sighed and wished he had his jacket. Then he could at least attempt to hide his face. But eh. He was feeling surprisingly at ease. Unusual. To be sure, however, he was going to work Matt to the bone on the Kira case when they got back. Because he would let Matt go wherever he wanted for now.
"Oh yeah?" he asked, blinking slowly. "Where do you plan to go, then?"
Matt suspected something like that when they came back from their little outdoor excursion, so he was taking advantage of it while he could. "I don't know," he admitted, walking aimlessly for the present time. "A walk in the park isn't badass enough, and...I don't know. What do hardened criminals do in their spare time?" he questioned Mello, looking over to him with a completely serious inquisitive look in his eyes. It was at this point that he noticed that Mello was fairly relaxed for walking around in the middle of the city-- but then again, he did have a rather large stack of chocolate with him, maybe that was what was keeping him so placated.
"We kill people," he said, without so much of a thought, a smirk peeling over his face. This was partially meant to be a joke, yet it seemed so serious. Maybe because that's how Mello climbed his way up the Mafia ladder, knocking off important people and taking their places. It was a grueling job, but it was necessary to get what he wanted. He absently tugged another piece of chocolate away from the rest of the bar.
"But I doubt that's what you want to do."
Matt raised an eyebrow, sucking a deep breath through his cigarette before answering. "Nope. Not at all."
He should have figured something like that would be Mello's answer. Maybe it would be best just to go home, if they couldn't find anything else to do... Actually, Matt was pretty sure he wasn't ready to do that. In fact, he wanted to hit the arcades, but...the idea of Mello playing arcade games with him was a little too bizarre.
"...What do you think of killing virtual people? With a plastic gun? That you can't kill me with?"
"Video games?" Mello inquired, cocking a brow, unsure whether to smile sadly or frown. "Don't you do that enough at the apartment?"
Even so, shooting virtual people could blow off some steam, without the consequences that killing real people would bring. And besides, hadn't he decided to be civil with Matt today, and rather lenient? Alright. The pros far outnumbered the cons, and the blonde couldn't help but shrug.
"Alright, I'll humour you. Hell knows that you've rotted your brain already with those damn Nintendo games." Or whatever console he was using now.
"Video games. And the arcade has some of the old school ones that I don't," Matt confirmed with a self-satisfied nod, chuckling to himself at Mello's queries. If you were Matt, you could never have, or play, too many video games. He brightened subtly though, when Mello agreed to humour him and play along. Cracking an inward grin, Matt took a final drag from his cigarette before putting it out in the gutter.
"Come on," he urged the other, leading the way to a cramped arcade downtown. "And it's an X-box. Jeeze. Know your consoles."
"Ah, excuse me for not being a geek like you," said Mello, rolling his eyes. "An X-box. I'll keep that in mind."
He was, of course, being sarcastic, but it really didn't matter. Matt was rather funny, the way his eyes lit up at the confirmation. It almost made him glad he had said yes, and gone along with this. Almost, but not quite.
Incessant gaming still bugged the shit out of him, no matter how much pleasure it gave the other. Well...it was the least he could do since he worked Matt like a dog. And Matt let himself get treated like one.
If confronted, Matt would just point out that they were friends. However, even this seemed like a stretch. Who else let their friends work them, live in their apartment, put them in a situation where they could be arrested...whatever Mello wanted, Mello got with Matt. It was a mystery why Matt put up with it. But…
Matt sure as hell knew the answer.
He led the other to the arcade, into the depths of the bleating noises, flashing lights, cursing gamers and the general calamity of it all. Tucked in a corner was a game with two plastic guns—electric blue and hot pink—sitting in metal holsters.
"Take your pick," he invited with a faint, amused smile, rummaging in his wallet for a couple quarters.
"Not much of a choice, eh?" mused Mello, picking up the pink one and turning it in his hands. It was light, unreasonably light, but he supposed he had to expect that from a plastic toy on a wire. He aimed it expertly, staring straight ahead at the screen to practice. Maybe this was why Matt was such a good shot. He played mindless games like this. Okay, maybe not so mindless. If he could aim a gun as well as he did from simply shooting at digital moving pictures, then something good could be said about it.
"You think you can beat me?" he asked, turning the fake weapon from hand to hand. He had shot mafia bosses at a range that was nearly impossible for anyone to physically hit. It seemed like a walk in the park for the older male.
Matt stifled a laugh at Mello's choice of weapon—given that these were plastic, he somehow didn't doubt that Mello would pass up a chance to pistol whip him. Best be on good behavior for the time being.
He slipped two quarters into the machine, letting it start up and guide them through the game without much attention. They were not twelve-year-old boys. They did not need to be told that pulling the trigger would result in someone getting shot.
They'd tested this for themselves.
"Probably not," Matt openly admitted—games were his expertise, but Mello was by far a better shot than he was. "But I'll put up a fight."
"You're on."
Mello probably hadn't had this much fun in awhile, not that he showed it much on his face. A slender smile was the only thing that lingered there as he aimed and fired, hitting each target with ease, and swearing profusely if he missed any. He often looked over at Matt's screen, unable to remember how long ago it had been since he had concentrated this hard on something other than the Kira case. It was Matt's fault, he decided, his eyes screwing in lieu of concentration. It was funny how serious he was taking this.
Whereas Mello shot down his targets thanks to his personal usage of a gun—Matt was nailing each one judging on a gamer's point of view. Strangely, the way they aimed and fired at their victims was strikingly similar. Just went to show what the youth of today was learning.
"Mello," Matt hissed, feigning severity, "there are little kids around."
The red-haired youth proved to be a hypocrite though—he soon missed a monster and swore loudly. They were both taking this far too seriously for a game—although, in Matt's defense, this was how avid gamers always behaved in the face of serious competition.
Mello most certainly did not consider himself an avid gamer. He wasn't like Matt, not one bit. He was just competitive.
"Ahh...fuck—what, Matt?"
He didn't dare look over at the other, not wanting to distract himself. Though he had never considered the other his rival, he would have been immensely put out should he have won. The blonde cocked the gun, firing off two virtual rounds with a smirk. If it wasn't so blatantly fake, he would have been convinced he was still shooting at the police, or rival gangs. He felt childish, a grown man standing in the middle of an arcade, amongst dozens of curious children, cussing at a game that was aimed for younger audiences.
They were shooting monsters. Come on. How much more childish could they get? Matt picked up a round of ammo—shots from being out completely. They were almost at the end of the course—hopefully this would last him. He inhaled, holding the breath as he shot down a couple more creatures.
"Just a bit more, Mello, how are you doing?" he taunted, his character ducking behind a crate as a monster retaliated and nearly blew off his head. He fired off his gun down to a couple shots just when the statistic screen popped up, indicating that their game was over. Matt chuckled, turning to Mello with complete nonchalance and blowing pretend smoke off the muzzle of his gun. "See, Mello, isn't this fun? And look, the police aren't even after you this time."
"Lucky me," said the male, grinning. He was enjoying himself. Fancy that. Sticking his gun back in the holster it had came in, he stretched slightly, revealing his stomach slightly at the stretch of his leather. The hazards of enjoying such different clothing...and different certainly was the word for it. Mello sighed and picked up the plastic gun again, aiming it squarely at the other's chest, producing a sufficient clicking sound.
"Aren't you glad that wasn't real?" He smiled teasingly and put it away for a final time, turning away to retrieve the chocolate he had set on the floor.
Matt arched a brow at the other, admittedly taking a sharper breath at the event of a hot pink gun being pointed at his chest.
"Ever want to do that with your gun?" he questioned, eyeing the other. Mello was such an...odd...companion.
Glancing back to the game screen, Matt chuckled. "You beat me." He pointed out, gesturing to the statistics, which showed that he lost by three targets. Plus, he'd used a bit more ammo than Mello, so his score took a hit because of it.
"No," he said calmly, truthfully. He picked another chocolate bar from the bag, as he wasn't able to help himself, and ripped the wrapper down part way to place the thing gently between his teeth and lash his tongue against the sweetness before breaking it off and chewing it.
"Yeah, it looks like I did," Mello continued nonchalantly, though grinning in spite of himself. "Jealous?"
Stupid question, sure, but he was trying to enjoy himself without worrying about anything, and teasing Matt was just too fun. He took it well.
That was something of a relief to hear. Matt didn't really think that the other wanted to shoot him too often, but he had looked into the barrel of Mello's gun too many times to be sure. "Good." He answered simply, sticking his hands into his pockets and fingering the meager amount of change left. Maybe they could play another game-- he hardly thought that this change would do him any good another day.
Matt cracked a smile himself at the other's grin—it was somewhat characteristic to see on his face, but not in this instance.
"Completely," he played along, feigning a look of shame. "I'd ask for a rematch, but you'd just school me again." Not that Matt had actually been schooled—sure, he lost, but hey, he wasn't too shabby himself.
He turned away, knowing that they had to get back. No matter how much it had been fun, he couldn't let himself get distracted like this. There was too much to do, and so little time to get a leg up on whatever Near was planning, which, at this point, Mello had no idea. He inwardly cursed when he found himself thinking about Near again. If he did that too much, the bastard would control his mind, and eventually ruin his whole operation.
"Yeah, I probably would," he said, balancing his thumbs on the waistline of his leather pants softly, walking toward the exit. "If you want to stay here awhile, that's fine. I have some things to do..." Matt could catch up later. He figured he could do without the other for awhile, at least.
Or maybe not.
Matt was vaguely surprised—maybe Mello could do something else, but it was rare that Mello voluntarily let Matt wander around an arcade and play games on his own. Hell, Matt was a good dog on a strong leash—Mello didn't need to let Matt play games to get Matt to help him out.
The redhead wasn't exactly stupid enough to turn down an offer of time in an arcade, but he also wasn't stupid enough to not stick around with Mello. Who knew what the hell the other could be up to? He fingered the change hanging out in his pocket before shrugging nonchalantly.
"Nah, it's cool. I'll come with you."
Later. The coins would answer their calling later.
Matt, turning down freedom? And not only that, but the freedom to play games all day. Not that he didn't do that anyway, but it was still strange. Mello cast him a skeptical look, but shrugged it off and wandered on, until he was out on that street again. He vaguely mused about why he was strutting about so nonchalantly. He knew several wanted him dead, and could too easily recognize him the way he tended to dress.
"I never thought you'd say that," he commented, feeling more at ease with a reply, rather than just silence. Matt was perhaps the only one who wasn't with him just for the sake of getting to Kira.
Matt was probably the only one around who was a friend, that was why. Matt pulled out a cigarette for compensation—figuring that it was the best he could treat himself to in lieu of sticking around the arcade and playing games. He lit it up, careful to hold it so that the smoke billowed away form Mello.
"What, turn down the arcade?" He quietly held in his amusement, knowing full well that it was the last thing you expected to hear from him. Hell, it was the last thing he expected from himself. "I know... I'm just making sure you don't get yourself killed somehow."
"What? You would care if I died?"
He looked at him with an utmost serious expression, though you would maybe consider it joking. Call it Mello's need for an assurance that someone actually cared, but he was serious. Near only wanted him to get closer to Kira, and the mafia only stuck around that long because of loyalty, and if they tried to backstab him, they'd end up with a bullet or two in their skull. Matt didn't seem like he was there for either of those reasons, but Mello never really did accept the concept of friendship.
"Sure," Matt answered. It might have been sarcasm if he didn't sound completely genuine about it. However, he stated it so casually that it was obvious he didn't quite accept the idea of friendship, just like Mello. Matt, though, knew that he stuck around because they were friends. He knew that he would care if Mello died because they were friends. And hell, if he wanted to be really sentimental about it-- he would admit to actually caring about Mello because they were friends. They'd known each other since Wammy's House, and Matt had a bit of an attachment to the other. Its name was friendship.
"Are you surprised?"
Mello snorted. He didn't know why he did, but it seemed like the most appropriate response, even if it did sound a bit apathetic.
"A little bit, yeah," he said. He could afford to be truthful. "I don't see what it would matter, but maybe that's just me being, well, me." Melodramatic Mello. It fit him, really, but if anyone tried to call him that without express permission, it could end up unfavorably.
Matt smiled faintly. He was further amused, but he kept that inwards. Matt wasn't known for expressing too much on an ordinary basis—and telling Mello that he would care if the blonde died still counted as 'ordinary basis'. "Well, I was surprised that you never really wanted to shoot me before, so we're even." He pointed out, continuing down the street.
"So, Boss," he commented, mocking their semi-established relationship of friends. "Where are we headed?"
"Back," he stated matter-of-factly. "I'm going to meet Hal again tonight...and use her to get to Near. I need my picture back."
And by picture, obviously, he meant the photo of himself that he had left behind at Wammy's House. No one could grudge him going back to get that, especially since it could mean life or death when placed in the wrong hands. And wouldn't you know it, that bastard Near had gotten it first. It pissed him off to no end.
Hal. What a weird woman. She was the sternest lady he'd seen around—so damn professional too. Matt figured that she just needed to get laid.
"Next time, then, you'll remember to snag your picture before you storm out of an orphanage, hmn?" He commented as though Mello would be storming out of an orphanage any time soon. Hell, Matt was teasing Mello again—it seemed to be something he quite enjoyed doing. As long as he didn't push any fatal buttons, that was...
"Oh, yeah, next time," said Mello, rolling his eyes. "I guess I just had too much on my mind."
He knew he'd get it eventually, anyway. Hal had a thing for him, so it wouldn't be too hard to worm his way in to Near. She didn't like him to the point of betraying Near, though, so he was at an impasse there. Not that he had planned to get Hal over on his side. He doubted she could do much for him, besides tell him about the younger's movements. But the blonde already knew that, so he was better off with just Matt.
And besides, Matt was less likely to betray Mello. Hal might, for some reason, go back to Near—or be playing double-agent on his orders. Matt, on the other hand, had come to Mello in the elder's time of need, had stuck by him, and had unquestioningly followed his orders without complaint. There was very, very little chance of Matt ever forsaking Mello.
"If you're going out to meet Hal, what do you want me to do tonight?" he questioned, seeing as their conversation was going to end up being streamed to business again anyway. He might as well get it over with.
Mello's pace quickened as they neared the apartment complex, taking out another bar of chocolate ravenously and ripping through it was his teeth.
"Stay here and monitor things," he informed. "If things go as planned, I'll get my picture back, and maybe make things manageable so that I can use Near the way he's always using me. He has the resources, after all."
A sigh. Near always did. Even in Wammy's House, it was clear who was going to succeed L. It made Mello feel vastly inferior.
Hey, Matt had never stood a chance. But that was all right-- like a few other kids in the orphanage, the technician had never aspired to be L. It was true that it was that he was in the orphanage for, but the fact that being L would have cut away his time to play video games had seriously deterred him as a kid, and the mentality had stuck with him since.
He nodded to Mello's instructions, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing a casual stream of cinnamon smoke off to the side to trail behind him like a banner.
"When will you be back?" He wanted to know a time to expect Mello, or at least a time range. That way, he could get concerned if the other didn't return within the hour. But he wasn't about to say that.
"I don't know," he phrased honestly. "Maybe midnight. Maybe later. I have things to do afterward..."
Mello didn't expect the other to ask exactly what he planned to do, since it was clear he wouldn't get a straight answer. The blonde didn't make it a point to explain his business, unless it affected Matt in some way.
He frowned as he closed in on the general vicinity of the apartment, able to see it clearly from where he was progressing. It wasn't as though he didn't like taking a break every now and then, but he didn't want to fail.
Matt nodded discretely, sucking in air through his cinnamon filter and breathing it out in a slow ribbon after holding it for a moment or two. He held any further questions to himself—not that he had any. He just didn't think about he subject at hand any more. His job was simple: monitor the happenings, the continuous job of checking for clues to Kira, and then think up of all the scenarios where Mello could have met his untimely end when the time came. That last bit was his own doing, of course.
He looked at the apartment building coming up ahead, kind of wishing that he had taken up Mello's offer of playing in the arcade. Hell, maybe he should have dropped by the game store and bought something new to play while Mello was out doing his business. Matt was an excellent multi-tasker.
"Well. Just don't get yourself killed."
Mello snickered, not necessarily a foreign sound, but perhaps in this context, it was. He grinned broadly and stared up at the sky, knowing full well that Matt was right: he was susceptible to getting himself killed. It was shame that he didn't care all that much about his well-being. It would get him killed one way or another; maybe if he was more conscientious to his life, he would have been careful. It was all about beating Near, not saving yourself. Life wasn't worth saving if he was in perpetual second place.
"I'll try," he said, casting a cold smile to Matt.
An 'I'll try' seemed to content Matt, for he said nothing more on the matter and merely put out the small remainder of his cigarette. Tossing it aside to the gutter, where it laid among other discarded cigarettes, Matt shoved his hands back into the pockets of his vest, his fingers closing around the bag of candy still lurking there. In the other pocket quietly jangled his unspent change.
In fact, it was calling to him now—but he had a job to do and by gods he would do it, lest he face the wrath of Mello. He could play games on his handheld.