to see you, to beat you, to meet you, to see you at last

[rdx]

[Mello said, "Good looking out." It was artless, both what he said and the way he said it. Impressively lacking in vested thanks. He looked ahead of himself and spoke while walking by. He didn't tell Near to come along with him and he didn't check to make sure of it. He was shrugging further into his coat while he walked, and its feathers had his focus. He was thinking about how much they tickled him. Near could have stayed yards behind him by then--he was thinking about the tickle. He shouldn't have gone more than three feet away from Near without hooking the two of them together, but he isn't even holding the handcuffs or their chain in his hands.

He was mindful, when they left the building together. He held the door open for Near, all the while looking around outside. A pigeon caught his interest, and then some foliage in his periphery. He held the door open, and then let it shut once he felt Near pass him. There was no clinking of a chain between them, and Mello didn't catch Near by the elbow to keep him from shuffling too far. The walk to the curb was unbridled. Then Mello also opened the door to the glossy limousine. They slid into the very back of it together, and Mello sprawled--Mello is sprawling. He's just as black and glossy as the car. Although they're in the limo now, he hasn't removed his sunglasses, so his eyes could be anywhere. But his face is turned toward the window, even as his limbs are a broad spread over the leather seats. Mello himself offers the peek of his belly and a glimpse of his collar bone, plus the languid angle of his neck, but he's otherwise dressed in all the same quality of this car. All the leather, all the rich shine.

He still won't take off his sunglasses. He hasn't tilted his chin to watch Near, seated across from him. Half of his mouth is hidden by the black plumage of his coat. The goal is to keep it that way. He thinks about how his coat has tickled him, and it's nothing compared to the sensation in his veins, which still isn't receding. It's an iciness. It's a total exhilaration, like that of being close to death, and being more aware of it than anybody else. Did you just see that? he could ask someone. The lightning struck right next to him; the car missed him by an inch; he's only barely caught himself from falling down the stairs. Did you see that just now? But Mello doesn't think anyone can really get it. Near has secured a partnership with useful men, meaning less dirty work could be traced back to Mello. It was satisfying, even pleasurable, and beneficial. But Mello seriously feels like he's been injected with a hit from a higher power. Mello's deal is what almost died, when his negotiations weren't sleek enough for this syndicate. They didn't think he was worthy of what he was asking, calling him too fresh, wanting to know too much. Near is the one who convinced them of Mello's worth. The group of men bought into it, be it thanks to Near's faith or Near's brutality, and--Mello passes his gloved hand over his mouth, needing a moment to swallow. Near made him feel worthy, too. He already knew that he was, or he wouldn't have come to negotiate, but Near made him feel it...

Strong and without warning, Mello kicks his feet up onto the seat right next to Near. He doesn't check to see whether he managed to make Near jump even a little bit with that. His ankles cross. His hand slides away from his mouth to cup the side of his own face, though it's still turned well away.]

So, what cut of the profits are you thinking you want?

[He commends himself on the good take. It's not a favor done in faith. It's a business transaction. Mello is telling himself this makes it safe to look at Near, but instead he bites down on his top lip, tugs at it with his teeth, and then lets it bounce free again. He doesn't know that he can look at Near, not when the picture of him is now this: a sharp mouth, the dangle of his fingers as he touched his hair, and the confidence. He was confident in what he was saying because he was confident in its subject. Those men didn't stand a chance, Mello realizes. He thinks they know it too. He thinks they know they would have been shamed as fools if they hadn't heeded the things Near said. He's thinking about that more than the tickle of the feathers--he's thinking about Near bringing men to shame, and this time he bites his bottom lip. If he were to draw toward Near, to take his wrist and place the metal cuff back around it, Near would be more than an IV drip. Mello wouldn't have time to think before Near reached his very center. And he has to wonder if it's too late to evade it, to keep Near out of him, but Near has been an arm's length away for weeks, and suddenly the lack of a chain feels like withdrawal.

"You're better off right where you are," Mello said, when Near tried to run away from him. But it wasn't supposed to fuck Mello up like this. He meant to keep Near close largely to keep him accessibly safe, and in doing that, he had accepted that Near's faith in him would likely wane. It was miserable to each of them, at times, after all; it was an unkind thing to do. So it actually feels kind of unfair that Near has just dazzled him.

The lighting in here is a buttery sheen on his sunglasses. Behind them, he tries to figure out how to ask Near to stay with him without involving an inescapable physical bind. To be sure, it sucks. Since Mello is being so gracious in giving Near this freedom, Near should simply offer to comply and stay at Mello's side appropriately.]

Comments

[facticity]

[Near hasn't said much of anything. Other than what he said during the meeting--admittedly, it was a fair bit--he hasn't had very much to say to Mello or anyone else. His silence isn't a punishment, nor penance, but it's a way of distancing himself from what's going on. He isn't making eye contact, either. He's constantly looking up, or down, or just away in general, with his hands tucked into the pockets of the long white coat that Mello ordered him into. To observers, they must make quite the pair: white and black, black and white, like the playing pieces on a chessboard. Near was miserable about being forced outdoors, and forced into coming to this meeting, but he hasn't actually said much of anything, not even to complain. He did grimace a lot on the way over, staring stubbornly out the window of the limousine. But then he stopped grimacing once they entered the Chinese restaurant, with its privacy blinds, its fine gold trim, the red wallpaper everywhere. There were murals of swooping cranes on the walls and it smelled richly of ginger and shallots (which was beyond nauseating). His face unreadable, Near was shown to his seat, right beside Mello, as though they were still chained to each other...

Mello was an idiot for thinking he could negotiate with that particularly infamous syndicate. It had been an ambush from the very beginning, and he was too blind--too convinced of his own infamy--to see it coming. They were going to knock off Mello, and Mello's coterie, and then take over Mello's territory without a second thought. If Near hadn't stepped in when he did, utilizing the knowledge he had of the criminal family, its recent activities, its social circle, they'd probably all be dead right now. Obviously, until the Kira case is resolved, Near cannot allow himself to die. He can't allow either of them to die even a second before then.

In a steady voice, firm but detached, Near promised Mr. Zhou that his newborn daughter would be the first to die, should he refuse to accept Mello's most generous terms. And it wasn't any different from threatening an uncooperative criminal, or such a witness to criminality. It wasn't any different. It was something they had been trained to do as children, in fact. Anyway, Near said ghoulish things he completely believed in, at least at that moment, even if he had no way of making them come true. He described the baby's death by dismemberment, by Mello's command, and he described how the mother would be forced to watch it happen before her very eyes. He described the death of each member of Mr. Zhou's immediate family: his nieces, his nephews, his brothers, that one sister with the lame leg, his aunts and uncles, and his surviving grandparents. Near called them by name, and by location, and he went on to explain that their houses would be burned down, along with their places of business, and that which belonged to their friends and their allies as well. Their empire, he said, would be reduced to ash. At some point, his threats should have sounded impossible, if not outright ridiculous, but the cadence of Near's speech didn't allow for any disbelief or suspicion. By the time he finished, you could have heard a fucking pin drop in that restaurant. You could smell the sweat coming off of that disgusting little man and his entourage. They had just heard a sermon revealing their own annihilation.

Now, arranged by the window all over again, Near doesn't look any different from when they first arrived. He's pouting into the passing neon colors. He's tired, and he's starting to feel cranky; he wants to go back to base and get changed into some softer pajamas. Other than the cuffs of his own coat, other than his own hair, he doesn't have anything to manipulate with his restless hands. It would be a real relief if Mello finally got off his ass, came over here, and snapped the handcuff back on him. Then Near could wind the chain around his fingers, and unwind it, and wind it back up again.]

I'm not interested in any of your money, [Near quietly says, still looking out the window. He doesn't seem all that bothered by Mello's feet or the placement of them.

Their mentor wasn't afraid to employ criminals when it was necessary to do so. For that reason, and for a few others, Near doesn't feel much conflict here, helping a criminal like Mello out of a bad situation. They're still in the middle of the most important fight of their lives. So, he's still trying to distance himself from the proceedings; he doesn't want to think of the restaurant as a favor to be repaid. He doesn't want Mello to have to owe him anything, because Mello would no doubt be obnoxious about it. The status quo is just fine with Near. It's more predictable that way. Fewer variables to account for.]

In the future, you shouldn't underestimate the Zhou family. They will be even harder to deal with now that they've felt the sting of humiliation.

[Frowning a little more, Near realizes he didn't even get a fortune cookie before they had to leave. Damn it.]