hadriel_logs | you're gone away but you'll come back someday.

Entry tags:

mello,
near

you're gone away but you'll come back someday.

Who: Mello and Near.
What: Mello returns after being on the lam and serving out his community service sentence; feels ensue.
Where: Casa Wammy's (house #1202)
When: August 1
Warnings: Maybe some swearing.

Mello's first stop after being officially released from the ridiculous community service sentence the City Guard shoved on him isn't the house where he'd been staying with Near before Silent Hill came to Hadriel - it's Rage's armory. Firearms and explosives have always been Mello's weapons of choice, but they're in short supply here, and if the past month and change has shown him anything, it's that he could stand to be better armed. Swords and such won't be of any use to him unless he learns how to properly wield such things, but knives don't require as much skill to use, so that's what he searches for among the stash of weapons, selecting three of acceptable size and weight and slipping them into his jacket pocket.

Then, he heads toward the house - hood up over his head, unshaded eyes alert to the landscape, watching for signs of anyone who might be following him. No one is, of course, but in Mello's mind, with regard to this issue of security, there's no such thing as taking too many precautions.

A curiously tight feeling wraps around inside of his chest as the house comes into view - nerves? He thinks that must be it, but why would he be nervous about something like seeing Near again? Maybe simply because he anticipates there will be additional fallout from his accumulated failures over the past months that they've both been here. He's dealt with the public consequences, paid for his miscalculations with his own blood and labor, but privately - well, that's bound to be a different matter, and Mello isn't sure what to expect. Of course he would be nervous. Cause identified, he forges ahead, swallowing down his anxiety as he paces up the steps to the front door. He doesn't knock, just digs his phone out of his pocket and dials Near directly; when the other line picks up, he only says, very simply: "I'm here." Let me in goes without saying.

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Near is expecting the call at this point. It's the right day; the only thing left uncertain had been the exact time. And he doesn't bother to actually reply, clicking the phone shut as soon as he receives the message.

He shuffles out of his room, where he'd been in his usual process of building elaborate card towers, peers discreetly out a window -- very briefly -- to make sure that Mello is really there. Alright. This is legitimate. He doesn't feel anything in particular when he sees him, though maybe the slightest hint of relief very deep down. Some part of him had held onto the possibility that Mello might have changed his mind over the past week. A small, ridiculous part. His holding spell on the door is dismissed with a simple gesture, and he works the locks, opens the door.

Near looks the same as he always does, of course: disheveled hair, rumpled pajamas, the appearance of someone who'd just been dragged out of bed. Except that his eyes are sharp and alert, an obvious indication that he's been awake for some time.

"So you are."

He steps back to allow Mello to enter. The house is . . . well, it has a very lived-in look. Clearly no effort has been made for it to be especially tidy for Mello's return. Near isn't a slob, by any means; he just doesn't particularly bother to straighten anything up once he's done with it unless it's something he's been building. The area is, at least, clear of any toys.

Mello nods silently and steps inside, heartbeat racing because he feels like he's about to fight. That's how it typically goes with Near; why would he expect anything different? There's more to fight about now, with his extended absence and the causes for it.

His gaze casts around the interior of the house, assessing the state of it, comparing what he sees to what he remembers from the last time he was here. It feels like a lifetime ago. Maybe that feeling is underscored by the fact that he'd been dead. But it doesn't matter as much that the place looks lived in - Mello isn't fussy about cleanliness past a certain baseline, and Near did abide by one of the initial ground rules Mello laid down, that toys be kept out of the common areas. (Or, if he didn't, he at least had the good sense to hide the evidence.)

"You've continued sweeping for bugs regularly, I take it?" A question that almost doesn't need to be asked, but he asks anyway. Better to be as close to one hundred percent certain as possible.

Edited 2016-08-01 18:52 (UTC)

It's often how it goes, but it isn't always Near's intent. And he is even less inclined toward it right now. He'd made a decision, when he'd seen how worn down and brittle Mello had been when they'd talked last -- ease up on the teasing, be more careful with his criticism. Or, more colloquially: do not be an asshole on purpose. Mello needs recovery time after a traumatic experience. It's only logical.

"Of course." The question is unnecessary, but he refrains from pointing it out.

Near had indeed taken advantage of Mello's prolonged absence to build card towers or play with his robots in the common areas. Mello, in his own words, had said that he didn't want to see it. Since he hadn't been around to see it, what precisely is the problem? Of course he'd cleared his toys out in preparation for today. (And might have spent yesterday reattaching the heads of his action figures.) As part of his decision to be more accommodating, Near is abiding by the house rules.

He closes the door, locks it, puts the spell back in place. "I got food yesterday."

Mello is braced, every muscle tense, for the admonishment from Near that he expects but doesn't appear, something that makes it clear that his question was entirely unnecessary - maybe even that exact word, unnecessary, something he's heard more of than he'd like in recent weeks. He's left Near an opening, again, and once more, Near doesn't take it. This has become a pattern now instead of a simple anomaly, and it sends the gears of his mind clicking quickly ahead, searching for an explanation.

He turns back to Near with a murmured wordless acknowledgment to his statement about stocking food (also an anomaly) and levels a hard stare on him, watching closely for even the slightest clue that will help him puzzle out this new pattern of behavior he's showing. Mello doesn't trust it at all; it feels to him like it can't possibly be anything but a trap.

"Whatever you're planning to say," he says, voice just as tense as the rest of him, "you should just get it over with now."

What? He hadn't made a special trip. It had simply been time for him to restock. Perhaps he'd just gotten a little more than he usually had since he'd been on his own. Only practical, with the house's other occupant returning.

... Honestly? Near is trying to keep from starting a fight here, and somehow this is offensive. His sigh is marginal, but it's there. "If I had something to say, I would say it."

For all that he is deceptive, underhanded, passive-agressive . . . Near is not shy about bluntly stating his opinions if he wants to. He doesn't need an invitation.

"Right." Sounds fake, Near, but OK. If he's going to insist on playing hardball, that's fine. Mello will step up to the plate. He pushes the hood back from his head and folds his arms over his chest, a typical and telling defensive gesture for him.

"You have nothing at all to say? About anything?" His head tips to the side, eyes narrowed a fractional amount. "No commentary to offer about any of this bullshit?" He doesn't believe that's true for even a second. Surely there's some fault to be found with how he'd handled things with Sharon, Bianca, the Guard - everything. Compared to Near, isn't Mello just an accumulation of faults and defects, an ugly, misshapen thing that is always, always fundamentally wrong?

What, exactly, is different about this time? There's a piece missing. What is it?

Near had been complicit in what had happened to Sharon, though truly that would not have stopped him from critiquing Mello's role in it. But he'd aired all his reservations with that before it had even been done. The mess with Bianca? Near is angry with her, not Mello. He knows Mello well enough to conclude that he wouldn't have been hunting down Sharon's friends; obviously, she's the one who attacked first. Her fault, not Mello's. As to the Guard, well he's sure Mello didn't just roll over with them, but otherwise he's unaware of all that happened. (And if this is what it had taken to catch him, then they're either lazy, incompetent, or both.)

His fingers are restless, so he winds them into his hair. "No."

That Mello doesn't trust all this is, he supposes, not entirely unreasonable. But he's obviously expecting a fight, and in the absence of one is trying to pick it. Near has no intention of feeding into this ridiculousness, at least not for now.

"You know I dislike repeating myself and I sincerely doubt you've forgotten anything I've said already. I'm not interested in a fight."

There are a few soft but noticeable knocks on the door. Of course, whenever any of the residents decide to open, there will be absolutely no one outside but a small package is placed neatly at the doorsteps. It consists on a simple piece of fabric wrapping something.

That something is Mello's gun.

There is no note or anything that gives away who put it there.

Enjoy.

Mello's heart stops momentarily when he hears the knocks at the door. Someone followed me? He'd been so careful, watching closely for signs of anyone who took too much of an interest in him, and there hadn't been anything out of the ordinary.

His wide-eyed gaze snaps to Near; he gestures to the door, then throws up his hands, a silent question of Did you do this?

There might be an answer to that silent question in how Near's eyes also briefly go wide and his attention whips toward the door. Nobody should be knocking on this door. For all the precautions they take, someone actually coming to their house is not a thing that should be happening.

That this is happening now can only mean that Mello had been followed. Mello always checks his surroundings when he's out; they both do. Had he gotten careless? ... No, immediately after getting out of custody, Mello would be on higher alert, not lower. Whoever followed him is either very good, or has some useful ability for this kind of thing.

His eyes are narrowed by the time he looks back at Mello. And he frowns a little at the gesturing, working out well enough what it means. What makes Mello think he can do that? (He can, but he'd never told Mello about that spell.) He shakes his head firmly.

No. This is not his doing.

Edited 2016-08-03 02:44 (UTC)

Mello isn't so much thinking of magical pranks as he is that Near either told someone where he lives or allowed someone to follow him on one of his necessary trips outside of the house. It's not that he doubts Near's commitment to secrecy, just an acknowledgment of the fact that he isn't as practiced as Mello in being out in the world and conducting countersurveillance while on the move. But Near says no, and in the moment, Mello believes him without question. This is too important to lie about.

He steps quietly toward the door, approaching like one would a sleeping, dangerous predator. Head cocked toward the entrance, he listens for a long moment, breath held still in his lungs, searching for any sound to indicate movement. There is none, so he calls through the door: "Who is it?"

There is, of course, no answer. Mello glances back to Near, another silent question in the expression on his face: What do you want to do now?

Of course hadn't told anyone where he lives. How stupid would that have been? He doesn't know anyone here well enough to decide whether or not revealing his location is a safe thing or he would have corralled someone else into doing his fetching and carrying by now. Just because he can look after himself to some extent now doesn't mean that he doesn't prefer otherwise.

This is all very inconvenient without being able to talk. It's a moment like this that Near misses the psychic network from his time spent Travelling. Certainly, it had been unsettling at first, but he'd gotten skilled with it and its convenience in tricky situations could not be denied.

Also inconvenient is the fact that they have no one expendable that either of them can send to check. But there's little sense in lamenting what they do not have, and so he pushes that thought aside as unproductive.

All he can really do is mouth a quick spell under his breath, to test for any lingering magic in the nearest vicinity. And none comes up aside from his wards on the doors and windows. If someone or something is out there, it's not actively magical. And if it's gone, it's left no magical residue.

He'd almost advise waiting it out, but that would drive Mello in particular crazy. Near would still be on high alert himself; he's just far less restless. He moves to the window, shuffling all-but silently across the floor in sock feet. Thin fingers budge the curtains scarcely a centimetre so that he can get a look outside.

Hm.

He's not going to waste both of their time with ridiculous gesturing when he needs to communicate something more detailed. Mello's attention is on him, so he quickly and precisely starts signing: No lingering magic except for mine. No one is there now. There's something that's been left on the doorstep.

Right, signing. Mello's rustier on that since he hasn't had much occasion to use it, so it takes him a moment to decipher what Near tells him. Once the message is interpreted, he nods quickly and signs back: I will check. Unlock the door. The sooner they get to the bottom of this mystery, the sooner they can get back to the business of figuring out what comes next.

Mello reaches into his jacket pocket and produces one of the knives he took from Rage's armory. Just because Near hadn't seen anyone at the door doesn't mean no one is there.

It's been some time since Near has had to use it as well, hence why it had taken a moment for it to even occur to him.

Oh. The knife is new. Mello must have made a stop before he'd come here. For some reason, Near hadn't expected that. Well, whatever. This is fine. He doesn't have any honest expectation that Mello had brought it to use on him, already secure in his assessment that Mello won't actually kill him.

A gesture in the door's direction cancels the spell. Signing back: Done.

Someone else might have told Mello to be careful. Near really doesn't see the need to express concern.

Concern isn't necessary or expected - they're both on high alert now, Mello possibly more so than Near. Unsheathed knife in hand, he undoes the physical locks on the door and cracks it open just a couple of inches, peering out onto the porch. There is no sign of life within visible distance, and the package - well, it could be anything wrapped in that fabric. Mello slowly swings the door open enough to step outside, eyes trained on the surrounding landscape for the first sign that this may be a trap. When it becomes apparent after a moment that nothing is moving forward to attack, he approaches the fabric-wrapped lump and cautiously lifts a loose end of the fabric up with the tip of the knife.

It's his pistol.

Mello exhales a breath, not quite in relief, and carefully picks it up. It doesn't seem booby-trapped in any way he can discern visually or audibly, so he turns back to the door and heads back inside, fabric unfolded so Near can see what's in his hand. He closes the door behind him and turns the locks, then heads into the kitchen, expecting Near will follow. He places the gun on the table and turns his attention to Near.

"You said there's no lingering magic, right? Can you tell if anything's been done to it?" He points to indicate the pistol on the table.

No, it isn't needed; Near has a certain expectation of Mello's competence -- a higher one than Mello might realize. How else would Mello have survived as long as he had, risen to the level he had, in the life he'd chosen?

Still, he minutely nudges the curtain again, just to keep an eye out. When nothing happens, he relaxes a bit. And when Mello returns, he frowns a little at the revelation of what's been left. He's never bothered to get a good look at Mello's gun -- his closest encounter with it had been with the weapon pointed at the back of his head, not his face -- but it's reasonable to assume that's what it is.

Re-casting the spell to seal the door is a reflex by now, done without conscious decision before he follows Mello to the kitchen. He shakes his head at the question.

"I've told you what I can; there's been no magical tampering. As to the rest, you would be more familiar with your own pistol than I am."

It isn't that they never studied about common weapons at the House, but Mello is the one that's been in the habit of carrying one for the past several years. The only weapons Near has ever carried have been as other selves, and none of them had been firearms.

Mello murmurs a wordless agreement; he does know his own pistol better than anyone else. He sets the knife he's holding down and picks the gun up - again, carefully - and turns it over in his hands. The safety is back on, but otherwise, it looks as much as it did when he had it last as he can remember.

"It doesn't look like it's been tampered with, but I'll disassemble it later and give it a thorough inspection." That's just the natural thing to do. Mello places the gun back on the table and slides it to the side, then reaches into his jacket pocket and produces the other two knives, arranging them in a line with the third. He looks up from the table to Near, lips pursed in something that could be construed as worry.

"I want you to pick one of these and start carrying it with you when you leave the house," he says, gesturing to the array of knives on the table.

There are two options Near can think of for who had dropped the pistol off at the door: Bianca, or a member of the Guard. Returning the weapon like that and disappearing is an obvious intimidation tactic, meant to inspire paranoia.

He watches Mello line the knives up on the table, notes the apparent worry on his face. Combined with the request, it's clear that Mello wants him to be able to protect himself better. He might have teased him about it, but he's being more careful about that for a while. The interruption at the door hadn't precisely been welcome, but it had broken Mello out of trying to pick a fight for now. No need to brew up a new one.

"Different weights?" he asks, even as he moves to test for himself. He has no real objection to the prospect of arming himself. Being more passive is not the same as being a pacifist; he has no problem with harming someone in order to ensure his own safety. "You know how to use them, I assume."

He expects some manner of instruction on the matter. One of his other selves had used a knife, but he hadn't retained any of the skill with it.

"Yeah," Mello says, pacing backwards a step to allow Near room to explore the knives. "Different weights, different balance - the important thing is to pick one that fits your hand, because you need to be able to keep a firm grip on it." There's no sense in having a weapon if it's something that can be easily knocked away.

"Knives aren't my weapon of choice," he continues, "but they're not terribly difficult to use - you just stick the pointed end in the other person." Unlike a gun, a knife doesn't require skill in aiming; unlike a sword or axe, you don't have to train to carry the weight of it.

"If none of those suit you, we can always go look in the armory. There were more, but I thought these looked like the right size."

The first feels relatively alright, so far as he can tell such things. But he needs to compare the others first, so he moves on to the second.

If he's to be carrying a weapon, a knife seems like the most logical choice. Small, easily hidden, not dependent on aiming skills. Near of course is well aware of where vital points are on a body, what type of wounds will bleed the most. At such close range, he theoretically couldn't miss even with how utterly atrocious his aim is. But being in the midst of a struggle wouldn't necessarily afford him enough time to ensure a precision strike.

"Where will I keep it to ensure it's both hidden and within easy reach? You've seen the coat I wear when I go out."

The deliberately oversized coat that goes more than halfway to his knees and partially covers his hands. The entire point of it is the high collar that covers the bottom half of his face, but the rest of the fit may present a problem in this instance. This is not his area of expertise, and he is perfectly willing to defer to Mello's knowledge on this.

That coat is ridiculous - effective at hiding Near's face, but otherwise, Mello isn't even sure how he can maneuver around in it as well as he does. Mello calls up the image of Near wearing it in his mind and thinks for a moment, mouth pursed in concentration, about the best way for Near to both carry and conceal the knife.

"You might just keep it in the sleeve of your non-dominant hand - like this," he finally answers, picking up one of the knives from the table and sliding it up the underside of the right sleeve of his jacket to demonstrate. "Then you should be able to get to it easily without having to dig for it if you need it." Again, he demonstrates, sliding the knife out of the sheath inside of his sleeve. "Of course, the best case scenario is that you won't need it, but just in case ... " Well, that's self-explanatory, isn't it; Mello wouldn't be bringing this up if he didn't think it was a risk not worth taking. He shrugs, slides the knife back into its sheath, and replaces it on the table.

"I guess we could always make some kind of strap to fasten it to your arm, if you think that will be more useful. You'll want to carry it however you find most comfortable and easy to reach. But whatever you decide as far as carrying it, don't let anyone see you've got it unless you really intend to use it on them. No one's going to be intimidated by you holding a knife." No one would be intimidated by Near, period - at least not physically. That's sort of the point in Mello suggesting Near carry a weapon - he's small, and while he's demonstrated magical abilities, none of them offer much defense against physical attacks. He's not especially quick-moving, either, and if someone here has a design on harming him, they'll probably be able to easily overpower Near. Having a knife on hand to use would be more about providing a distraction that buys enough time for an escape than causing another person actual targeted harm with it.

That the coat is effective at hiding his face is all that Near cares about; he doesn't find it unduly cumbersome and how he looks it irrelevant.

He watches Mello out of the corner of his eye while he tests the weight of the second knife -- better than the first, but there's still one more to check. And he inclines his head in acknowledgement at the demonstration. It's the way he'd prefer, more comfortable than having to put something more constricting on his arm. "Either arm, then." The unspoken implication there: Near is ambidextrous. It's the only physical gift he has, aside from the top-notch reaction time he'd picked up while Traveling.

"I am aware of how physically unintimidating I am." That much is so obvious that an idiot could see it. How many twenty-year-olds can be understandably mistaken for an adolescent child? He sets the second knife down, picks up the final one to test it. A moment of checking the balance, adjusting his grip . . . and it goes back on the table before he re-selects the second. "This one."

Mello frowns slightly at the correction Near makes - of course he's ambidextrous, and of course he'd point it out instead of just taking the advice Mello gives him and applying the relevant parts. "Whatever. The point is, you'll want to make sure you can reach the knife - confidently - in a hurry. However you decide on that is up to you."

He collects the other two knives from the table with a nod when Near makes his selection. "One more thing - if you end up in a situation where you have to use this, make sure you keep your body as compact as possible, and behind the knife. Like this." He demonstrates by pulling his arms in close, knife in hand pointed out. "Keep it close to you. Got it?" That shouldn't be too difficult for Near, he thinks - he's a compact person already, not really in the habit of taking up more space than necessary.

Natural ambidexterity occurs in only approximately one percent of the population, and Near is woefully lacking in physical attributes. It's not reasonable to expect him to have won the genetic lottery on such a thing; he's lost it on so many others.

The emphasis on the conditional in Mello's instruction is not lost on him, almost an admonishment not to incite an encounter himself. As if he would ever do such a thing. He does not deliberately provoke unless it's over long-distance communication or he has protectors surrounding him. Though there is the matter of unintentional provocation, given his difficulties with people in general.

Still, he takes it in intently. No, staying compact is not an issue; Near does have a tendency to take up as little space as he needs to. He crouches on the floor, always partially curls in when he sits, sleeps in a fetal position. The only possible exception would be when he stretches out on his stomach, but even then, he tends to bend his his knees so that his lower legs don't touch the floor.

He nods, once. "Right."

Mello's concern is less about Near doing something idiotic to provoke a fight - whether by intent or accident - and more about the capricious nature of Hadriel's other citizens. People can only be predicted to a certain extent, and what can't be predicted is far more worrisome.

"Good," he says, resheathing the knife in his hand and returning it to his jacket pocket. "Now, if there's nothing else to discuss, I'm going to lie down." He has two weeks' worth of network backlog to catch up on, and he could probably stand a long nap, if he can get his mind to quiet long enough to facilitate sleep. Odds are that with the heightened sense of anxiety over the mysterious recent knock on the door, the latter may not actually happen just yet.

And Near does not doubt that there are those here who would not be harmed by this kind of weapon regardless, but being armed is a safety precaution. He does not have the luxury of staying inside all the time anymore, and he does not have a team to protect him. Taking measures like this is entirely reasonable.

"It's fine."

He's willing to accommodate what Mello feels he needs to do in order to pull himself back together, and there is nothing to discuss about their unseen visitor. Mello is certainly smart enough to have reached the same conclusions of who could have returned his pistol. There's nothing to be done about it, as unsettling as it might have been. Near certainly won't be trying to sleep right now, though. Not that he'd intended to anyway.

They're done talking, so without another word, Mello collects the fabric-wrapped pistol from the table and heads toward his bedroom. He's still very tired, and now that the immediate goals of staying out of the Guard's reach (failed) and completing his community service sentence (technically a success, though it doesn't feel like much of one) are no longer things toward which to reach, he'll need to assess what his next move will be.

The bedroom door barely has time to latch shut before his voice comes bellowing from inside the room at an ear-splitting volume: "Near!" He bursts through the door and marches toward the kitchen again, scowling furiously.

"What did I say about staying out of my room?!" In his hand he holds up a ridiculously bright-colored sneaker, silently accusing.

Near has only taken a few steps back toward his own room before that bellowing halts him in his tracks, sets his teeth on edge. Wonderful. After they'd gone to such lengths to ensure that nobody knew this house has a second occupant. What nonsense is this about?

His attention catches on the brightly-coloured sneaker rather than Mello's furious expression, because where else is his attention supposed to go? He doesn't need to look at Mello's face to know that he's furious with him yet again. And accusing him of something stupid.

Part of him would like to snap back about how needlessly loud Mello is being, but he refrains. When he speaks, though, his voice manages to emphasize that anyway: quiet, but unintimidated. "If I had violated our agreement, I would not be so careless as to leave evidence of it."

He had violated the agreement, in that he'd taken his toys out into the common areas periodically. But he'd actually abided by the stipulation to stay out of Mello's room.

Edited 2016-08-08 23:29 (UTC)

That's ... yeah, OK, that's a good point, Mello can see that now. Leaving evidence behind would just be stupid, because surely Near would be able to predict that Mello would react in exactly this way. Mello exhales a slow, irritated breath through his teeth, still scowling, and pointedly doesn't apologize.

"Then where did this come from?" No one else has access to the house - Mello is almost a hundred percent certain of that, or he was, before whoever it was knocked on the door earlier.

He doesn't bat an eye at the lack of apology. Truly, it would have been more notable if there had been one. This is all standard interaction with them; Near expects no apologies.

Near does not answer at first, instead continuing on into his own room, mind working furiously on possibilities. He needs to see if his space has been compromised as well. And sure enough, it has. Hm. He casually drops the knife onto his bed for now, and scoops up the other objects that he's found lying upon it. When he returns to the kitchen, he's carrying a folded blanket, notably printed with cartoon monkeys on it, and a smallish box on top. His expression, if he can be said to have one, is vaguely thoughtful.

"It seems we've both been gifted something." His mind backtracks over old network conversations, hitting upon a potential solution. "Hope did say there would be rewards for participating in his initiative."

And they both had, even if Mello had only done it as part of a criminal sentence and Near had only done it as a token goodwill gesture to the populace.

If these are gifts, they should be returned: a Mello's opinion. No, seriously, the shoes are a crime against humanity, and the blanket Near returns carrying is just as bad. Mello's expression sours as the realization dawns on him that not only is this house less secure than he thought, but Hope has apparently been keeping tabs on them. That's just not a good thing.

"As if we're all trained lapdogs." He hasn't yet seen Hope's broadcast, but he was told about its contents, when it became apparent that he wasn't the only one working on improving the city. Well, if Hope thinks Mello was a willing participant, he's sadly mistaken.

"What am I supposed to do with these anyway?" The question is half-grumbled to himself, the obvious answer to which is wear them. Which will obviously not be happening any time soon.

Near is doubtful that Hope or any of the gods even care whether any of them are willing participants so long as they get what they want. It's not a difficult mindset to understand. As long as the result is achieved, the means do not matter. Familiar territory for people like them. That's just how things work.

That the gods appear to know everyone's location is discomfiting, perhaps, but not surprising. Near has assumed at the least that even if none of the residents (including himself) has been able to hack the phone network, the gods have access to everything. They created the phones, after all; the assumption is not unreasonable.

"If you're not going to wear them, I suppose that is up to you." Near has no problem with his blanket, however. Anyone over the age of eight should probably be ashamed of it, but what does Near care? It's made from soft fabric, and is likely very warm. It will serve a purpose. The other item will serve a purpose as well. "I suppose I'll have to do the puzzle facedown in order to preserve some measure of challenge."

Picture puzzles are far too simple. Even if they contain a thousand pieces as this one does.

Well, of course doing the puzzle right side up would be too easy for Near. Mello still rolls his eyes.

"Do it however you want, just not out here." He waves his hand to indicate the rest of the house. Mello may be retiring to his own bedroom where he won't be able to see it anyway, but reinforcing the agreed-upon rules is important.

This low-level bickering is petty, but at least preferable to Mello trying to pick a more serious argument. All in all, it is acceptable.

"Of course. We do have our agreement." As if the rules need reinforcement. Near has never forgotten them, even if he'd disobeyed this one frequently while Mello had been away. Now that he's back, Near has no issue abiding by them again, if only to keep the peace. It placates Mello and ultimately costs him nothing. This is fine.

Whether it's acknowledging Mello's desire to rest, a show of good faith to the rules, or some vague rudeness, he moves to return to his own room without another word.

It's weird, right, that Near's acting so agreeable - isn't it? They're not agreeable people, and especially not with each other. And this isn't the first time since Mello walked back through the front door that Near deliberately hasn't risen to a challenge Mello has laid at his feet. This is definitely a pattern now - Mello just hasn't determined what exactly it signifies.

He'll have time now to puzzle through it in private, though, behind the closed door of his bedroom - which is where he now heads, ridiculous shoe in hand. He has much to think about, and a space where he can feel relatively comfortable doing so again.

This isn't home, exactly, but it's the closest thing under the circumstances.

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you're gone away but you'll come back someday.

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