subversion | [private] once you think you're in you're out.

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[private] once you think you're in you're out.

The room Light leads Matt to is a bar, which has been abandoned every time he's checked it. It's pure curiosity: something a little familiar. Heading to the counter - which is immaculate, as if someone scrubbed it down before walking out - he peeks behind there and steals a bottle of orange juice before looking back to her.

"It was some kind of genocide? Chasing utopia?"

[[OOC: private to

stripesandheels.]]

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I don't know if I could find it again. It was meant to be the kitchen, you know?

[Thoughtful, before his eyes meet hers, with almost military precision.]

Fourth floor. Second corridor down from the kitchen. That was where I came out.

How old are you? Be a kid with me for thirty seconds. I promise it won't kill you.

I don't know. I hear I was born old. Maybe I'll age backwards, hm?

[Part of him is enjoying this, and part of him wants to run and run and run so far he never finds his way back again. But he would like to see what kind of wings she ends up with.]

I'll go there if you will.

Lead the way.

[Climbing to her feet, with a grin.]

[And he does, too, getting up from the counter and heading for the door.]

So what was it, you never had a chance to be a child before?

Did and didn't. I'm nineteen- I should be at college parties or something, giggling nervously over a bag of weed, and wondering what to get my boyfriend for his birthday. Not dealing with the maffia, hacking the government websites, having dangerous liaisons.

What were you up to, back in the real world? [She hurries to catch up.]

Only nineteen? I should be careful nobody sees me talking to you. I'll end up in jail - if there's such a thing here... Don't hit me.

[She's not going to let it go, and he refuses to get shouted down again by the babble in his head. Stretching his arms out slightly as he walks, he prepares to lie like there's no tomorrow.]

As for what I do, I'm almost scared to tell you, considering everything.

You're just making me more an more curious. What are you, a stripper or something?

[Bouncing along in step behind him.]

I'm researching a PhD in criminology. The effectiveness of the death penalty as a deterrent. Um.

[His lips are a little pursed, that's all.]

Oh, I know a lot about that.

[a sideways glance] Somehow that doesn't surprise me in the least.

I had a funny childhood. [Grinning.]

Good thing we didn't drink anything. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to drink and fly.

It's easier than it looks. You could probably manage as long as you could still walk, and stayed away from the ceiling.

[Turning onto the fourth floor.]

You don't mean funny in the passed-from-pillar-to-post kind of way, I take it?

Can't tell you, another Matt would probably claw my eyes out if I did.

Pull those goggles back down. You'll be fine.

[Butter wouldn't melt.]

I won't pry into your personal business, though. Not if you don't want to tell me.

You're mean.

[She loves it.]

Maybe we should play questions.

I'm lovely.

[He can tell, and he's sworn to himself he'll behave here. Unfortunately, there was never the Light born that kept a promise - and her suggestion doesn't entirely appeal.]

What kind of questions did you have in mind? Provinces in China? South American capitals?

Well, if that's what you want to ask.

What did - one moment.

[Looking to her; the room is still here. As he steps inside, the same drab brown wings appear as did before, materialising through his clothes, merging with his skin, dropping feline self-satisfaction across his face.]

As I was saying. What kind of questions did you want to ask?

[Totally deadpan.]

Let's start with your favourite colour.

[Her wings spread- blue, with black and white bars, a like a blue-jay.]

Woah, this is awesome.

Yours are prettier. I could get jealous over that.

[His blur, hummingbird-fast, as he lifts his feet from the ground.]

Green. Yours?

Buttercup.

[Fuck off, she knows it's girly. She beats her wings hard, and rises as well, letting out a peal of surprised laughter.]

Worst law you've ever broken.

Interesting. Buttercup - not quite dandelion, and not quite primrose.

[He smiles, as she laughs; it's a real smile, but not for her. It's the wings.]

Isn't it my question now?

No, you asked what mine was in return. I want to know what law you've broken.

[Landing on the perch.]

I - [buzzing back and forth, hovering in midair] - ones I was caught breaking, or not?

[There's no way he's telling her about the windows.]

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