Mello remained silent as Matt launched a stray piece of plastic into the air, as it curved at an odd angle before dropping floor; useless, as any makeshift weapon that strayed off course, and felt a lopsided grin tug at the corners of his lips. Yes, this was definitely better than being bored. Room 420 had started to feel like a hospital ward, smelling of blood, of sterile bandages, antiseptic, and medication - now that feeling had disappeared and Mello couldn't be more thrilled. Even if it came at the price of sending Matt straight into the clutches of severe nicotine withdrawal. But hey, Mello wasn't that cruel, he'd give in and bend eventually, after he'd put up a sufficient enough show.
And then the assault upon Near's toys had ended, the brat had decided to move them out of harm's way, and Mello watched with a certain amount of pride and amusement that the toy Near was taking the most care to protect was a lone black Gundam, covered in crosses and decorated with gold paint. So he did like the present. Haha. Not that Mello cared, of course, nope, he didn't care at all, in fact. Caring was chucked out the window right alongside the scolding he'd received from the arrogant little prick, like he didn't at all know what he was doing.
"Since when were you one to endorse addictions, Near?" Double meanings, double meanings. Almost everything you said carried another hidden message these days. The words were sneered, and Mello's composure faltered for a fraction of a second before he looked to Matt, wry grin quickly slipping back into place.
"What would you do for a smoke, Matt?" Mello shoved the carton of cigarettes back into his pocket and gave an all-too tantalizing poster example of what he was offering: a heavy drag of nicotine. Inhale. Exhale. He blew the tuft of smoke toward the couch with a wink. Sure, Matt could hardly move as it was, but Mello was more interested in points for creativity.
And maybe, just maybe, depending on his partner's answer, Mello would decide to be merciful.
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And then the assault upon Near's toys had ended, the brat had decided to move them out of harm's way, and Mello watched with a certain amount of pride and amusement that the toy Near was taking the most care to protect was a lone black Gundam, covered in crosses and decorated with gold paint. So he did like the present. Haha. Not that Mello cared, of course, nope, he didn't care at all, in fact. Caring was chucked out the window right alongside the scolding he'd received from the arrogant little prick, like he didn't at all know what he was doing.
"Since when were you one to endorse addictions, Near?" Double meanings, double meanings. Almost everything you said carried another hidden message these days. The words were sneered, and Mello's composure faltered for a fraction of a second before he looked to Matt, wry grin quickly slipping back into place.
"What would you do for a smoke, Matt?" Mello shoved the carton of cigarettes back into his pocket and gave an all-too tantalizing poster example of what he was offering: a heavy drag of nicotine. Inhale. Exhale. He blew the tuft of smoke toward the couch with a wink. Sure, Matt could hardly move as it was, but Mello was more interested in points for creativity.
And maybe, just maybe, depending on his partner's answer, Mello would decide to be merciful.