Death Note Fan Fiction / Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ I Know, You Know ❯ Back in the Day ( Prologue )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Monniemoo 
Roger hones Mello's observation skills. Based on the first scene of the pilot episode of Psych.
Anime/Manga: Death Note Fan Fiction / Death Note Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Mystery / Police | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 08.12.2010 | Updated On: 08.12.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 788 | Visits: 900 | Status: Work In Progress
Roger hones Mello's observation skills. Based on the first scene of the pilot episode of Psych.
Anime/Manga: Death Note Fan Fiction / Death Note Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Mystery / Police | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 08.12.2010 | Updated On: 08.12.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 788 | Visits: 900 | Status: Work In Progress
Mello licked the grease off his fingers from his grilled cheese sandwich and swung his legs under the table. Roger was scolding him for the latest trouble he had gotten into, but his nine-year-old attention span had tuned him out long ago. Instead, Mello took some time to look around the small diner he was seated in. It was an old place, quaint and comfortable. It was easy for him to spot the difference between the regulars and the people who had never been there before.
“Mello, did you hear a word I just said?” Roger raised his voice a little, regaining Mello’s attention.
He sighed, folding his arms on the table and resting his chin on them. “It’s not like I haven’t heard it all before,” he muttered.
“Well, then, maybe you should listen to me for once. You can’t just go around destroying other people’s stuff, Mello.”
“Well, it’s Linda’s fault for taking a picture of me,” Mello said, rolling his eyes.
“Mello…”
“Look, I already said I was going to buy her a new camera, okay?”
“You bet you are. It’s coming out of your allowance, and it better be a nice one.”
“Yes, sir,” Mello mumbled, glancing off to the side.
Roger sighed, folding his arms across his chest. He leaned back, looking down at the boy. “Heard about your science test today,” he commented, changing the subject. “A plus…good job, son.”
Mello sat up. “Well, it’s not like I really tried,” he said casually.
“You know, you really should try more often. It’d get you somewhere in life.”
Mello glanced at the triple-layer fudge cake in the counter’s glass case that he had been eying throughout the meal. “Would it get me some chocolate cake?”
“Only if you pass. Close your eyes.”
“But Pa-”
“Do you want the cake or not?”
Mello grumbled, but acquiesced.
“What color is the waitress’s uniform?”
“Pink.”
“What’s the pattern of the floor tiles?”
“Black-white-black-white, except around the counter where it’s all white.”
“What’s the name of the guy behind the counter?”
“Umm…”
“Come on, Mello,” Roger pressed. “You saw his nametag when we walked in.”
Mello thought back to when they entered the establishment, picturing everything he saw. He focused on the image of the guy behind the counter who greeted them as he slid a shake to another customer. There was his name tag, with his name printed clearly on it.
“Rick,” he said conclusively.
“Okay, how many hats are there?”
“Hats?”
“Just answer the question, Mello.”
Mello strained his mind, searching through all of his mental footage of the place. It was difficult at first to keep track of which people were the same, but eventually he sorted it all out.
“Five,” he said conclusively.
“Describe them.”
Mello let out an exasperated sigh, but the cake had looked too good to give up now. “There’s…a lady in a black sunhat in the corner,” he began. “The two guys sitting at the counter, both have USC hats. One’s white with the gold and red Trojan, and the other’s red with the letters in red. There’s a kid wearing a brown wool hat. And…”
“And?”
The last one had slipped his mind. Mello panicked for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to remember. “And the chef in the back, who has one of those white paper ones you can fold out of newspaper,” he finally declared, proudly opening his eyes.
“Wow, that’s amazing,” the waitress said, alerting Mello to her presence. He opened his eyes and grinned proudly up at her.
“It was pretty good,” Roger admitted.
Mello opened his mouth to complain, but Roger cut him off.
“I’ll have a black coffee,” he told the waitress, “and a piece of chocolate cake for the kid.”
“Sure thing,” she said with a smile, noting down their orders. She turned to Mello. “Well, we certainly know what you’re going to be when you grow up,” she said, throwing a glance back at Roger in his police uniform.
“Oh, I’m never growing up, ma’am,” Mello replied frankly with a grin.
“Mello, did you hear a word I just said?” Roger raised his voice a little, regaining Mello’s attention.
He sighed, folding his arms on the table and resting his chin on them. “It’s not like I haven’t heard it all before,” he muttered.
“Well, then, maybe you should listen to me for once. You can’t just go around destroying other people’s stuff, Mello.”
“Well, it’s Linda’s fault for taking a picture of me,” Mello said, rolling his eyes.
“Mello…”
“Look, I already said I was going to buy her a new camera, okay?”
“You bet you are. It’s coming out of your allowance, and it better be a nice one.”
“Yes, sir,” Mello mumbled, glancing off to the side.
Roger sighed, folding his arms across his chest. He leaned back, looking down at the boy. “Heard about your science test today,” he commented, changing the subject. “A plus…good job, son.”
Mello sat up. “Well, it’s not like I really tried,” he said casually.
“You know, you really should try more often. It’d get you somewhere in life.”
Mello glanced at the triple-layer fudge cake in the counter’s glass case that he had been eying throughout the meal. “Would it get me some chocolate cake?”
“Only if you pass. Close your eyes.”
“But Pa-”
“Do you want the cake or not?”
Mello grumbled, but acquiesced.
“What color is the waitress’s uniform?”
“Pink.”
“What’s the pattern of the floor tiles?”
“Black-white-black-white, except around the counter where it’s all white.”
“What’s the name of the guy behind the counter?”
“Umm…”
“Come on, Mello,” Roger pressed. “You saw his nametag when we walked in.”
Mello thought back to when they entered the establishment, picturing everything he saw. He focused on the image of the guy behind the counter who greeted them as he slid a shake to another customer. There was his name tag, with his name printed clearly on it.
“Rick,” he said conclusively.
“Okay, how many hats are there?”
“Hats?”
“Just answer the question, Mello.”
Mello strained his mind, searching through all of his mental footage of the place. It was difficult at first to keep track of which people were the same, but eventually he sorted it all out.
“Five,” he said conclusively.
“Describe them.”
Mello let out an exasperated sigh, but the cake had looked too good to give up now. “There’s…a lady in a black sunhat in the corner,” he began. “The two guys sitting at the counter, both have USC hats. One’s white with the gold and red Trojan, and the other’s red with the letters in red. There’s a kid wearing a brown wool hat. And…”
“And?”
The last one had slipped his mind. Mello panicked for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to remember. “And the chef in the back, who has one of those white paper ones you can fold out of newspaper,” he finally declared, proudly opening his eyes.
“Wow, that’s amazing,” the waitress said, alerting Mello to her presence. He opened his eyes and grinned proudly up at her.
“It was pretty good,” Roger admitted.
Mello opened his mouth to complain, but Roger cut him off.
“I’ll have a black coffee,” he told the waitress, “and a piece of chocolate cake for the kid.”
“Sure thing,” she said with a smile, noting down their orders. She turned to Mello. “Well, we certainly know what you’re going to be when you grow up,” she said, throwing a glance back at Roger in his police uniform.
“Oh, I’m never growing up, ma’am,” Mello replied frankly with a grin.