[The stretch of Greed's lips is matched in a subtle tip of Mello's own; he's always been bold, hasn't he? Strutting into unknown territory the way he did that first night — a mark of audacity that has tattooed him to his core, more so than the superficial ink and irritated raises of skin that line his chest, torso. That his boss would expect anything else is laughable, but he doesn't, does he? Just a taunt, a prod that the too-human blond takes in stride when he drops his hand in some small act of compliance.]
[It wasn't his intention to snatch, after all. Just a test — true greed knows no limits, does it? All right, then.]
[Step for step — subtle as the dance is — Mello's guerilla tactics for attention have no effect on something so ancient; obvious as this is, he'll persist. What does it matter, in the end?]
Think it's fair enough, yeah.
[Slurred, maybe. Just the edges, just the nuance. Questioning authority is a step down from obliterating it completely, and if Greed only knew — oh, that would be cause for strife, wouldn't it. A subtle shake of his head, half-takes the room with it. No, it's not about revenge, because revenge is nothing more than a means to an end. A cog, an instrument: Mello knows the concept well. His own revenge was nothing more than a tool to take and take until he stood on top because, well — ]
[The half-drunk human standing before Sin has always wanted the world too, hasn't he? There are nuances to this sort of thing; no explanation is needed. Someone with ambitions so high understands full well that obstacles are just those. An endgame is far beyond that, far beyond figureheads and posing entities.]
I'd be disappointed if they were your goal. [A one-shouldered shrug; nonchalance can be matched movement for movement. Dead at nineteen, Mello knows ambition more than the average 'human' Greed might have encountered, but hubris is something to be kept at bay until it's needed. Because I'm nothing you've ever known is an idiot's declaration.]
[Actions speak louder than words, when all is said and done.]
[But oh, prideful boy — don't mock the Devil, himself.]
And this town; it's a hub, I know.
[Semantics, really. But the Sin likes to speak in circles, doesn't he? Pull them round and round until their demand for answers fall to the wayside; Mello was never someone to be deterred so easily. Beneath it all, he's been trained to replace his world's greatest detective — not that he'd be particularly keen on sharing that information. A flick of his tongue over the corner of his mouth, and he'll step back if Greed thinks he's going to lead him along in a fruitless whirl.]
[Eventually]
The cities are yours — [The people? Well.] — the Gods are out of the way. [And Mello thinks he likes this game, pressing as it is. Skirt along the edges of sin; reach forward to flick a fingernail against the side of the demon's glass.] Everyone accepts your bargains —
[Demon at the crossroads.]
No one wants to take what's yours, which is — [Smirk.] everything. [A tip of his chin; Mello sways on his feet just a bit too much to make an argument for complete coherency, right now. Unimportant, dismissed with a quick righting on his balance.]
[He asks because — Because.]
There's nothing left. And you — [In this life and the last.] you're eternal. [As is Mello, as is everyone here, where immortality even after death is a curse that some of them would relish.]
Do you sit on a throne and bask in it all, or do you wait for someone to rise against you?
[If there's a hint of challenge to the question, it's unintentional. Really.]
no subject
[It wasn't his intention to snatch, after all. Just a test — true greed knows no limits, does it? All right, then.]
[Step for step — subtle as the dance is — Mello's guerilla tactics for attention have no effect on something so ancient; obvious as this is, he'll persist. What does it matter, in the end?]
Think it's fair enough, yeah.
[Slurred, maybe. Just the edges, just the nuance. Questioning authority is a step down from obliterating it completely, and if Greed only knew — oh, that would be cause for strife, wouldn't it. A subtle shake of his head, half-takes the room with it. No, it's not about revenge, because revenge is nothing more than a means to an end. A cog, an instrument: Mello knows the concept well. His own revenge was nothing more than a tool to take and take until he stood on top because, well — ]
[The half-drunk human standing before Sin has always wanted the world too, hasn't he? There are nuances to this sort of thing; no explanation is needed. Someone with ambitions so high understands full well that obstacles are just those. An endgame is far beyond that, far beyond figureheads and posing entities.]
I'd be disappointed if they were your goal. [A one-shouldered shrug; nonchalance can be matched movement for movement. Dead at nineteen, Mello knows ambition more than the average 'human' Greed might have encountered, but hubris is something to be kept at bay until it's needed. Because I'm nothing you've ever known is an idiot's declaration.]
[Actions speak louder than words, when all is said and done.]
[But oh, prideful boy — don't mock the Devil, himself.]
And this town; it's a hub, I know.
[Semantics, really. But the Sin likes to speak in circles, doesn't he? Pull them round and round until their demand for answers fall to the wayside; Mello was never someone to be deterred so easily. Beneath it all, he's been trained to replace his world's greatest detective — not that he'd be particularly keen on sharing that information. A flick of his tongue over the corner of his mouth, and he'll step back if Greed thinks he's going to lead him along in a fruitless whirl.]
[Eventually]
The cities are yours — [The people? Well.] — the Gods are out of the way. [And Mello thinks he likes this game, pressing as it is. Skirt along the edges of sin; reach forward to flick a fingernail against the side of the demon's glass.] Everyone accepts your bargains —
[Demon at the crossroads.]
No one wants to take what's yours, which is — [Smirk.] everything. [A tip of his chin; Mello sways on his feet just a bit too much to make an argument for complete coherency, right now. Unimportant, dismissed with a quick righting on his balance.]
[He asks because — Because.]
There's nothing left. And you — [In this life and the last.] you're eternal. [As is Mello, as is everyone here, where immortality even after death is a curse that some of them would relish.]
Do you sit on a throne and bask in it all, or do you wait for someone to rise against you?
[If there's a hint of challenge to the question, it's unintentional. Really.]