Chapter Text
The door's almost closed when Matt sticks a booted foot into the winnowing shard of light and jams it, the stab of victory only feeding his anger when he sees Near's knuckles whiten.
So he kicks it open when the fingers leave and he's satisfied with any bruises Near's going to get, though neither say a word; Near stands and holds his forearm and pinches his lips together and Matt takes a final drag of his cigarette before crushing it on Near's carpet. He'd have to bring Mello home to squalor while Near could buy someone to wipe his mouth for him after every bite.
"He doesn't want it from me," Near says before Matt can attack, and goes to the door again.
Matt kicks it shut. "Wammy accounts are the safest in the world."
"It would be a waste," Near whispers.
Matt's about to kill him but Near's security arrives and escorts him bodily from the hotel, ignoring the Buell and shoving him into a taxi and the taller one with blood on his sleeve snidely barks out Matt's exact address.
Matt's too empty to do more than pluck at the cracked pleather.