Your sticks all are snakes and I throw them aside

[onlydisappear]

[Matt has remembered dying in the mansion, but he hasn't actually died.

"You've probably got a lot to ask me," he hears himself say, as if from far, far away. "You aren't going to shoo-"

They shoot.

Mello’s gonna be pissed when I'm not there, he thinks. But that's wrong; he can read what he missed before in the images tumbling through his mind,

Comments

[curtainwizard]

[Light is lost. Not in the corridors; he knows them like the back of his hand, for a mile around the population centre. No, it's more that the teeth of his situation are beginning to bite him. He can't ignore what happened any longer.

And then he turns the corner, and Matt's there, hidden against the door. It's him: the dead one, the one who's apt to be around ... just as long as Light himself? The door he's sat against is one Light's seen before - crossed in harsh black paint, with an ankh beneath it. It's the death room. Ah. Oh.

Well, it's not as if he didn't have it coming, is it? And yet...

The little book is in his hand, and he'd never, never be nervous for something like this. He settles against the wall, out of arms' reach, and feigns concern.]

You're blocking the door, and I was just about to go in. What a shame.

[onlydisappear]

What? You wanna die? Be my fucking guest.

[Except he can't seem to muster the energy, just yet, to move.]

[curtainwizard]

I'm sure I can rearrange my morning. There will be other times.

["Never" sounds like a good one. Shuttered behind his hair, he watches, and waits; around this room, people might say anything. Plus, Matts aren't usually armed, as far as Light knows, but...]

[onlydisappear]

[This one isn't, actually, at the moment. He gave up the habit of carrying his gun with him in the mansion long ago; he hasn't fired it a single time. He tugs the goggles back into place, protective camoflauge, and drops his hand.]

You know what room this is. [He means: You're not in this stretch of hallway by accident.]