[Somewhere while listening to Myr speak, Mello has made his way with the slow, careful steps of a sneaking child to the other side of L. A knee touches the floor — both — and he's quiet long enough to process the information he's been given and come to a conclusion that only someone who refuses to give in would reach.]

[Eyes like glass focus on his mentor's face, his hands itch to grab at his arm. But Mello doesn't. There's only so much weakness he can show in the presence of another. Despite his distaste for the act, the instinct to ask Myr that they pray together is strong enough that it sits on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill.]

[But instead — ]

Mmno. [Eternal denial.] Everyone has a price. The key is to find someone who's willing to sell.

[Everyone wants — no, needs — something.]

Existing isn't the same as living, [He mutters with the weight of a thousand deaths on his shoulders.] He can very well exist in this state forever.

[Now, a with a bit of cruelty.]

Your prayers are useless.