"Go fuck yourself, yeah?" Still, he dug into his coat pocket, fishing out the somewhat crushed pack and popping it open, sliding a slightly mangled cigarette out with his teeth on the filter. Lighting up as he hurried after Mello, Matt resolved that his precious pack must have been squashed during the assault - a turn of events he was not at all pleased about. Neither was Mello, obviously.

As he sucked in a deep, calming drag of noxious smoke, he glanced at his friend, finally catching up to him. "No," he answered simply, pondering the question. He'd overheard talk of them, sure, but nothing solid. Matt had to wonder how such a thing was possible - more brainwashing? Such a widespread phenomenon had to have been noticed by someone on the outside already. He fought back a chuckle as they passed the hallway that would have led to their respective rooms. Take that, you crazy jerk, he thought at the German mess they'd encountered, hiding his snicker.

An idea crossed his mind just before they reached the stairs. "I know you don't want to," he said carefully, in a low voice, "but this might be a good idea to try to contact Near. He has resources we don't, mate, and I know you don't like to hear it, but he could get us out of here." He wasn't entirely sure how it would be possible in his case, but he was sure that if the three best and brightest of Wammy's got together, they could damn well find a way.