hh_mirror | Books books book... (Open RP in, yes, the library)

"Right." Completely unconvinced.

He holds open the door for Ryuuzaki. Outside it's cold, because this is Scotland and it's mid-March (they're lucky it's not snowing) and overcast and there are people rushing to and fro, heads down. Matt sighs.

...oh, unfortunate. L really needs a sweater. He's wearing the thickest of the long sleeved shirts, but that isn't going to cut it for long.

"Let's walk quickly, please."

Matt nods; that's fine by him. They seem to be just on the outskirts of the main shopping district. Within a few minutes they're surrounded by high-street stores and bustling pedestrians clutching shopping bags.

"So how badly hungover were you?" Matt asks after a moment, grinning. "And... we could always get you something from one of these shops. The mall's at the top of this street, but..."

"I need a bank first." Any branch of any of them will do. Of course there are little reserves (a few thousand dollars here and there) for just in case. This is a just-in-case moment.

"I was alright, after ingesting ibuprofen. I slept longer than I have in years."

Eight whole hours.

"A proper bank, or just an ATM? There should be one somewhere... I can never just go to bed when I'm drunk. I ended up playing Resident Evil until about five."

"One where I can speak to a manager."

L glances over at him. Resident Evil?

"I dislike zombies."

"How about that one?" The bank Matt indicates has Bank of Scotland written on the window, and appears to contain a small coffee shop.

Matt grins. "I thought you didn't game."

"No, but I read. I dislike zombies."

He nods, and opens the door, gesturing for Matt to go through ahead of him. It's an immense relief.

And after disappearing into a room with the person in charge, he emerges in impressively short order with a credit card.

"I don't think anybody likes zombies." Yes, Matt's waited until L's return to say that. He's also bought them both a coffee each. "Are we sorted for our shopping spree?"

"I think that we are." L accepts the coffee with a smile, and hopes Matt put sugar in it. "Short of calculating dispersion and spread patterns, there is very little to do about zombie invasions."

Matt hadn't, but he does have a pocket full of little sugar packets, just in case. "Except run, and shoot the shit out of anything that moves."

"Is there any sugar?" L won't actually survive drinking it without sugar.

"And while that approach would no doubt be partially effective, the odds of lasting long are slim to none. I dislike zombies."

"Oh, yeah - wasn't sure if you took it or not." He hands over two of the packets in his pocket.

"Let's just hope that none turn up at that school, then. Part of me wouldn't be surprised." They're back out in the cold, and even Matt can feel it, gloves and thick striped sweater and wool-lined vest aside.

L peers at Matt's pocket hopefully, to discern if there's any more, and then starts messing with the lid. He tears the packages open with his teeth, and thumbs them until they pour into the cup. The crumpled wrappers go into his pocket, then he wraps both hands around the warmth of the beverage.

He takes a quick sip, and it's worth scalding his tongue and how bitter it is just for the heat. At least he had the good sense to put on a pair of shoes, this time, knowing they were going out.

"Uh. I've got more, packets, if you want them...?"

"Yes please."

He holds out his hand, cheerfully, eyes scanning for the nearest clothing store. There's one less than half a block ahead.

Well, in that case... he drops all the little packets into L's hands, then turns his attention to his own coffee (which has less than one packet in it, plus lots of milk).

"Sweaters, laptops, lego... maybe some chocolate? I'll pay you back when I get paid."

All of them go in.

What?

"It is no trouble, Matt, really. Please, let's go in here." Warmth! Clothing!

Matt blinks at the rampant sugar-consumption, then shrugs. He's friends with Mello, after all. Maybe geniuses all secretly want diabetes, and he and Near are freakish exceptions.

"Sure," he says, looking curiously around at the clothes. "And I don't mind paying back. Like I said, I kind of owe you for getting a home and food and shit."

They're more Matt's style than L's, but it was what was closest, so he pushes past the racks of everything and the bubblingly helpful salesperson in the direction of the sweaters. Which he then starts feeling for texture, and poking at for sizes.

He wonders if they're allowed to just try them on in the shop...

"Do you see any more like this?"

"Thick, plain-looking sweaters?" Matt flicks through the racks of clothes. Unsurprisingly, he does most of his clothes shopping online. "There's quite a lot... some with hoods, some with pockets, some..."

He trails off. Turns to face L.

"Oh my God. Ryuuzaki."

He holds up a yellow-and-black striped sweater. And grins.

L's eyes go very big. He looks at the sweater, and then at Matt.

"...really?"

"It's a sign, man. You have to."

"You will have to hold my coffee."

But without any more complaint- best get it over with- he pulls the thing on over his head.

Predictably, he looks like an anemic bumblebee. The colour overwhelms what little he had. It's... certainly dramatic... but possibly a little worrisome.

"I cannot describe how much I wish I had a camera right now." He takes a sip of his coffee, fighting to keep a straight face. "It's a good look. I say you buy it."

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