#gotmattitude

MATT

Meeting with Puck is, honestly, the last thing Matt wants to do. Pretending like nothing happened, not talking about it, on the other hand, seems like a sound fucking strategy. So much has changed over the course of a weekend; he doesn't know what he stands for anymore, what he's willing to do for those he had been preaching to care about. But even with all of that, Puck deserves to know what happened in that house. Frankly, he doesn't know if he'd be standing here if Puck hadn't been there, guns blazing and bombs blasting. When he sees him, though, his hands are clammy and he takes a breath to steady himself. "Hey," he greets.

PUCK

He waits for Matt at NYADA's main entrance, hands deep in his pockets as he looks outside. The past days had been more than a nightmare for him. Brownstone had flipped his whole world and made him doubt himself and his work for the first time. It was a shitty feeling, and he sure as hell knew he didn't need more of that revolving around his already fucked up head. However, it was impossible to stop thinking about that house, that museum of monsters and nightmares, and the man that created it all, someone who was supposed to protect LN just like Puck himself was supposed to protect humans. 

And then there was the pool. And Matt. And the shadows. 

Since the first day he met him, Puck had hit it off with Matt. He had felt he'd found someone who could understand him, who could maybe understand his story, who could get him -but he had been wrong. After finding out about him being an LN, it felt like everything was just a lie. Once again, he found himself in the opposite side of the board, and Matt was nothing but a stranger now. If only that was all.

He hears his voice and turns around, meeting his eyes and giving him a nod as a response to his greeting. "Rutherford. We better get going. We got a lot to talk about," he stated going straight to the point. "You got any place in particular you wanna go? It has to be crowded, but at the same time, we need somewhere we can talk without being overheard -something like a mall or a park or something... Somewhere only Commons go."

MATT

It's strange, how much things have changed. When he met Puck, it had been easy; they got along, and along with the rest of the Thundercats they made a good team. Neither of them bothered to dig very deep, and it was fine. But after Field Studies, when he'd found himself buried in research about Slayers, he remembers that sinking feeling when he realized Puck was not just a Slayer, but one from a notable clan, and their friendship, or whatever it was, didn't matter anymore. But now, well. Matt owes him one, at least. Brownstone changed things.

He  nods back at Puck and for a single moment of panic he just wants to leave. It passes, as quickly as it came, but the underlying sense of unsettling anxiety doesn't. His mouth opens to suggest Aveline's as a meeting spot; they know about his magic already, after all. But he closes it--it's too risky for Auntie and Aveline, knowing what he's been involved in. "A restaurant?" he suggests. "People are usually too busy talking shit over their aetherdamn pancakes to eavesdrop." Damn it, now he wants a pancake too. He doesn't mention this. "Or Central Park, somewhere busy?"

PUCK

The mention of pancakes makes him think of waffles, and he freaking love waffles. For a moment, Every other thought exits his mind: he needs waffles. "I know a diner nearby," he nods as he starts moving towards the exit not even bothering to see if Matt is following him -he's hoping Matt is smart enough to know Puck has got the upper hand in this play.

Darling's Lil' Diner is just a few blocks away, right around the corner of the old parking lot where he leaves his truck that could easily be confused with a junkyard. As they make their way there, Puck doesn't speak. He keeps his hands in his pockets and his eyes straight ahead, his head already racing. He doesn't know how this talk is going to go, but he knows he's got a responsibility now to keep Matt's powers a secret., even if he's still mad he didn't tell him about him being a doppel before. 

Once there, he opens the door for him, pointing to a booth at the far corner of the restaurant and quietly ordering to act natural as he takes a seat opposite Matt. His eyes stay on him as the waiter brings them a menu, and he doesn't even open it as he asks for coffee, black, and an order of waffles with ice cream, caramel and whipped cream. His brow curves up as he waits for the other boy to make his order, then he keeps his gaze on him long after the waiter is gone, silence seeping between them.

"So," he says, finally. "You start."

MATT

Puck stays quiet as they make their way to the diner, and Matt doesn't try to make conversation. He has no idea what he's even going to say, much less dress it up to make sense, when in reality, a lot of the time he has no idea what is going on with himself and his magic. 

Trailing along behind Puck, barely even taking in their surroundings, only really looking up once Puck stops to open the door. Had this happened a month ago, he would've made a crack about him being a fuckin' gentleman. But he doesn't. Instead, he sits and glances at the menu, suddenly pressured to find something to order when Puck does so without hesitation. Once he does --a stack of pancakes and a coffee-- he avoids Puck's gaze, until he speaks. Then he looks straight ahead. He'll start with the easier part.

"When I got here, I didn't know what to expect. I thought I would lay low, see what folks were like," he starts. It feels like it was so aetherdamn long ago. "But then Tina brought up the NAOs, and I guess I just sort of jumped in. I wasn't going to, first. I wasn't sure if I could hide the," he interrupts himself when their coffee is brought over, thanking the waiter, "uh, hide the shadows if we were faced off against something shitty, and I didn't know what the team-or anyone, I guess, would think about me being a doppel. So I only told people who asked. About the doppel shit, not the shadows." He's rambling. He stops himself, taking a breath. "Shit's different after the doors, though."

PUCK

He thanks the waiter and takes a sip of coffee as he listens to Matt, eyes locked on his the whole time, brow furrowed in concentration. 

It's understandable, he thinks; if he was a doppelganger, he would hide it, too -not fully human, yet not as monstrous as the other LNs: nowhere to fit it. It doesn't make him any less happy about Matt letting him think they were pals and indirectly lying to him, but he gets it.

But then, Matt brings up the doors. He puts his coffee down and interlaces his fingers as he leans over the table. "Different... What changed?" Aside from knowing the doors had stolen the LN under custody, he didn't know why or where they were taken after that. "Did the doors take you, too? Where to? What happened?" He knows he's asking too many questions, and in normal circumstances he'd probably get no answers at all, but he holds Matt's secret now, and hopes that's enough to make him give the answers he needs.

MATT

What changed? Everything, for him. But he hasn’t talked about what happened inside; not aside from vague mentions of it to the rest of the LN, anyway. Puck knows now, though. It figures that the last person he wanted to know about what was going on with the search for Kurt is the person he ends up telling this to. He stares at him as he thinks, and sighs. 

“They took me, yeah.” He can still feel the tendrils wrapping around him, being dragged away from the ground. “I was on campus. A lot of the LN were. The door showed up over the lake, snatched us all up.” He shuffles uncomfortably, takes a long sip from the coffee. “It was just dark inside. And it... I saw things. Memories. Shitty ones, at that.” 

Trailing his finger over the handle of the cup, he keeps his gaze down. This is the part he hasn’t told anyone about. “And our magic had gone batshit before. People lost their glamour, magic circles were glowing. But inside, it was like I needed it. The darkness materialized and it... got me out of there.” That’s all he should say., but he keeps going. “With darkness like that, I usually can’t do much to control it. But since the doors...” A dead raccoon lies somewhere in the Saltus Forest to testify for Matt’s ‘control’. “Everything is different, dude.”

PUCK

As Matt mentions he's been taken, he wonders what he did to get out that the other slayers didn't -they had a ceremony, almost a funeral, but the Aether didn't respond to them. Yet Matt is sitting right across, not a mark that can tell him about the doors taking him, not one visible scar. They had lost so many soldiers, yet the doors had let Matt go just like that. 

It's hard for Puck not to resent him, no matter how much he tries.

"What kind of memories?" he asks, unable to keep his mouth shut. So many slayers lost because of those mysterious doors, but Matt sat across from him, not a bruise in his body, not a visible sequel from the episode. It makes him angry, but he tries to keep it at bay and not lash out at his classmate -if he did, his source would be gone, no means to get the information he needs ever again.

But then Matt talks about the darkness, and how it had kept him safe, and Puck, the big bad Slayer, feels the chill of fear crawling up his spine again. Matt was one with darkness. The legends he once heard as a child were no longer just bonfire stories to make him scared, but a reality.

"Your powers," Puck almost whispers, "The doors helped you make them stronger, get a better grip of them..." He thinks out loud, but his eyes cannot leave Matt. "The doors helped you," he concludes. "Made your power over shadows manifest itself in a different way..." There is a long pause as he thinks, and the waitress brings their plates and Puck forgets to thank her like he always does. "The doors made you stronger," he states, more than ask. "They helped you in ways you can't really explain."

MATT 

He has no right to be annoyed at Puck's curiosity; but Aether, he still is. The past month, the only person he has come close to really talking about this is Santana. Even after Brownstone, it doesn't seem wise to hash out the details to Puck, a Slayer who has the upper hand on him. Someone who benefits from the divide the doors had created. Silence stretches for a moment after Puck's question, and he sighs. "A dude harassing me when I was in the streets. Your run-of-the-mill transphobia. That sort of charming bullshit." Taking his coffee again, he hides behind it. 

It almost surprises him how quickly Puck catches on; it had taken him a long time to even notice his magic was any different. Instead of saying anything, he lets him talk, quietly thanking the waitress when their food arrives, and although he picks up a fork, he doesn't do much aside from pick at it. His stomach is twisting and turning. "They changed things," he says, but tries not to sound like he's correcting him. "I've always been able to..." Fuck, why did he agree to this? "I don't know, manipulate the dark. But if it's not just my own shadow, it's always... wild. Even now." Maybe especially now. 

He puts his fork down, shifts in his seat. "Look, I don't know what the fuck happened that night. All I know is I was at a New Year's Eve party, I was drunk and I was having fun, then some motherfucking giant glass door picked me up, shoved me inside it, customized its torture, and spit me back out in time to see a giant-ass rotting monster come out of the damn ocean. So no, I can't really explain."

PUCK

His brow raises, feeling a dash of guilt for making him talk about things he clearly doesn't want to remember, and lets out a soft sight. "Sorry," he mutters before he can help himself as he leans back on his seat and does like Matt, hiding behind his coffee and giving him a moment. "Sounds like it was not a good time." 

As he puts the cup down, he wonders if the Slayers who were stolen went through that, too. He wonders if they're still going through it. He imagines himself engulfed by darkness, his worst memories flashing before his eyes over and over again, driving him insane. He really prays that's not what his brothers in arms are going through, and the mere thought makes his anger grow as tumor in the middle of his stomach.

Even if the plate awaits for him and the ice cream is beginning to melt, all of Puck's attention is centered on Matt, on the way he explains his relationship with the darkness and the shadows. He makes fists of his hands when he realizes they are shaking. This is even bigger than anything he could've imagined: Matt might just be the most dangerous person he's ever encountered.

"At least the doors spit you up; many others weren't as lucky, y'know," he grunts before sighing, long and tiredly as he tries to relax his muscles, finally grabbing his fork and knife. "Have you talked about this with anyone else?" he asks as he cuts into his waffles and takes the first bite, unable to keep himself from humming and losing himself in the magnificent taste of Darling's Lil' Diner Waffles. "Shit, these are good," he comment before he comes pack to reality and points at Matt with his fork and keeps talking like he didn't just get lost in food paradise; "'Cause you shouldn't. I don't know what you did back in that room, but I've never seen someone do something like that before. And for what you're telling me, that's fucking crazy magic, and it's gonna take a lot of training for you to be able to really get a grip on it. And you do not want anyone finding out about it. Specially no one you can't trust. You already fucked it up with me, dude." He gives Matt a smile because he's not threatening him, he's just letting him know he's got the upper hand at the moment. "So. You don't share, and I don't share. It ends here." He moves his knife in between the two of them. "Deal?"

MATT

It's in that moment there, as he breathes out in what might resemble laughter, that he understands everyone's tendency to joke about their misfortunes. He doesn't want to say it's okay, because he can still feel the darkness mocking him, hear the crunch of concrete as the city was destroyed. "Couldn't have asked for a better way to start the new fucking year," he mutters. 

He doesn't know what to make of Puck's body language, of his expression. There are so many reasons why he doesn't talk about this, and the uncertainty that comes before a reaction is certainly part of it. There were tenants who witnessed his magic who never quite looked at him the same afterwards. With them, he had Auntie to keep them calm; no matter what Puck said before, he still can't be quite sure how he'll react, if he'll be like Hunter and decide that the doors making LN stronger is a reason to hate them and lash out. 

Matt feels another twinge of irritation at Puck's words; but he doesn't know that the people who disappeared have been at the forefront of his mind for a month... But now that he thinks about it, he might not be talking about the same people Matt is. "I know," he says simply, and lapses into silence as Puck speaks. The only moment he allows himself to react, mouth twitching, is when he begins eating. Everything might have gone to shit, but that's still amusing. All in all, he knows. About his magic being... crazy. The secrecy is what Auntie and Darrius had insisted upon and what Aveline had readily agreed to. An untouched, strange power like this, with the potential it has to take lives... it's always been risky. Auntie is afraid of the government. Darrius is afraid of the people. Matt is afraid of both. "A few people from the boarding home know about the magic, but not about the doors, or, uh, or Brownstone."

He looks down when he says he fucked up, but he sort of laughs. It's true. Although, even if he doesn't trust Puck, he's a step up from some one like Hunter, at least. That would've been a disaster. "Deal," he agrees, and only then does he pick this fork back up and eat a mouthful of pancakes. They've gone a little cold, but shit, yeah, they are good. He squares his shoulders. "D'you... wanna know anything else? I think I owe you one."

PUCK

"Yeah," he mutters as well, his tone drenched in irony, "Happy fucking new year! Your reward is fucking agony." He's angry. At Matt, for making it out; at the doors, for being there; at the Aether, for not letting them find those missing slayers. But he stays quiet behind his mug. He doesn't want to share that with the boy opposite him; he doesn't need to know how weakened they are at the moment, when all LN might have grown stronger as they went through those doors that swallowed the only family he's ever known.

He looks back at Matt as he chews and nods his head slowly. "Only a few people you really trust, then. Smart. Keep it that way." He cuts another piece of his waffles and digs in, his eyes still glued to Matt's as he takes his time to eat and swallow. "You tell nobody of Brownstone, y'hear me? They will be able to know you used your circle, but not what you did. You're gonna tell them I was shooting at the selkies and that I was the one getting violent, while you just tried to keep them at bay and failed. If they ask about traces of your circle, you tell them it was just some kind of protections spell, a barrier, some hoo-doo crap, but you never, never, mention the shadows. You blame it all on me. I dunno how many selkies died in that room, but you tell them you tried your best to not harm them, that I was the one who went in guns-a-blazin', alright? You. Keep the blame. On me," he says slowly, staring into Matt's dark brown eyes and pointing at him with the fork once more. "You. Are. Innocent. You. Did nothing. Wrong. Say it. Now." He keeps staring, waiting for Matt to repeat his words. His expression is neutral, almost unreadable, but he is not joking, and he needs to know Matt will follow through with his plan.

Puck relaxes as he takes the deal, a small smirk quirking up his lip as he nods. "Yeah, I do." His smile becomes a little dangerous now, almost feral. "I wanna know how it works. Your magic. Everything you know about it.”

MATT

He laughs, bitter and quiet; it had been horrifying, but... they had been the lucky ones. So much of Sciron, the city, the entire world had been destroyed, picked halfway clean of LN. Littered with those that had been injured or lost to the monsters. And still, questions hung in the air, even a month later. Maybe they would still be unanswered in the many months to come, no matter how much people pressed for answers. Is there even a way to find justice anymore? Much like when he first received Puck's message, insisting he didn't take any of the blame, guilt eats up at his chest. It's not what he's supposed to do, avoid responsibility at all costs. For once, though, despite his growing discomfort, he keeps his eyes steadily on Puck's, grip tightening around his cutlery. No matter what kind of story he tells, he still has blood on his hands. But now he gets to say someone else put it there. It's fucked up. For a fleeting moment, he thinks he needs to work on his lying. And that he's not liking this habit of Puck pointing things at him. "Fuck, dude. I'm the one who doesn't want this to get out," he mutters, but lets out a breath, and clears his throat. "I'm innocent. I did nothing wrong." It's monotonous, and fairly hard to believe, but he'll work on that. It's steadier than he thought it would be; steadier than it was at the LNPC. Maybe he's only sort of decent at lying for self-preservation.

A chill runs down his spine at Puck's request, and he thinks to censor himself. But this is the reason for them even meeting up, isn't it? "Right. Where do I start." He straightens his back, and goes back to eating in between sentences. "As long as it's somewhat light out, shit has shadows. So, uh, if we start out with my 'normal' shit, with my shadow," he says, with air quotes. "I can target any shadow and sort of... use it... to... drain it. So, um, let's say I want to do something simple, right? I can use the shadow under this booth and drain whatever life its got. Bacteria, flies. That's gonna feed into my shadow. At this point my shadow's this sort of blob. Doesn't take my shape anymore--obviously. And that's when it materializes. When it's got enough... energy, I guess. But if I'm just draining bacteria, flies, then it's not gonna last, it's gonna be weak. The bacteria and the flies are definitely gonna die. Unless there's a shitton of flies." Fuck, he really shouldn't try to joke about this right now. "It, uh, works better when draining magic. Artifacts, potions... people's magic, too. It doesn't glitch out as easily. I know with objects if I overdo it they can start going sort of messed up, but I've never trained long enough or-or I guess fought anyone long enough to know what happens then."

PUCK

He chomps on his food as his gaze stays on Matt, fire in his eyes as he gives the orders, smirk taking over his lips as the other agrees. "Yeah, and the only way you're gonna achieve that is trusting me, of all people," he smirks mockingly, then lets out a snicker at Matt's barely convincing words. "You're gonna have to work on that. Look at yourself in the mirror and say it until you believe it or some shit. Cardines might be useless most of the times, but they will clock you if you're not sure of what you're saying. And if they ever find out about the whole shadows things? Dude, trust, it's not only gonna be them on your ass, but the whole SGA. Don't take this the wrong way, but that guy Fuchs would've jizzed his pants just thinking about you and your powers." He's not smiling anymore as he finishes talking, and makes a pause as he takes a spoonful of ice cream. His eyes stay on his plate as he adds in a cryptic voice: "If someone finds out you're not only a Doppel, but you can also control shadows, you're never gonna see the light of day again."

As they change the subject, he quickly finishes his plate and leans back on his seat, sprawling as he crosses his arms over his chest and pays attention to Matt's every word. It's interesting, and something worse than Puck had ever imagined. Because it's not only controlling the shadow, but the energies under it. It means if he was under the table, Matt could drain his energy just as easily to feed his own shadow. It's fascinating, and so fucking scary -the freaking boogie-man. However nervous he is, he's also excited to know more, and he snorts at the joke of the flies. He remembers why he liked Matt in the first place for a moment before he starts talking again. "So, if I make a spell, you think you can drain energy from my spell and use it for yourself? Like, renewable energy or something? If you found an amulet, you can recycle it's magic and use it to power your shadow? Does your shadow obey you, or is it, like, still a work in progress? You think you can control it, or do you think more than often it takes control over you? You could've basically used up all that selkie's energy and killed him, couldn't you? Just to recharge your own shadow and make it work for you?" The questions keep oozing out of him without Puck being able to stop himself. His foot under the table keeps tapping on the floor, and he's putting all of his concentration on remembering every detail of what Matt is saying so he can write it down in his book of shadows later on, find more information on this kind of magic he knows nothing about.

"Are you afraid?" he finally asks, leaning into the table, his voice lowering as he meets the other's eyes. "I'm not talking about people finding out, but of finding out what you can actually do. Seems kind of a heavy burden to carry, ain't it? Specially if you can suck out the energy out of anything under shadows..."

MATT

He doesn't know if this means he was being dramatic as all hell by not trusting Puck, or if he's doomed, but either way, he laughs. Sort of. The reality of his situation dawns on him again, and it feels ten times more dangerous now that he's so acutely aware of what can happen when the people in power get their hands on those they deem dangerous, but too interesting to discard; the monsters on the course, the LN in Brownstone. He remains mostly quiet; he really does need to work on his lying. Now, more than ever, it seems his freedom hangs in the balance. "How  the fuck else am I supposed to take that other than the wrong way?" Matt asks, and clears his throat by the end of the sentence where his voice had gotten a touch too strained. The goosebumps along his arms and neck seem to be permanent when Puck says that last sentence. He swallows spit, and nods. "Got it. Be convincing or die trying. Or fucking worse." There are many thoughts fighting it out for attention in his head, but a single pressing question makes the cut, blurted out after keeping his eyes on Puck and more than a moment's worth of hesitation. "I'm--Alright, I gotta ask. Why aren't you doing all of that shit? You're a Slayer."

Matt's eyes widen at the sudden influx of questions, tries to remember all of them by the time he's done. "Damn. Not even I asked myself this much shit," he says, amused, and also relieved that he hasn't suddenly decided the secret's not worth keeping. "I don't know if I can drain a spell. As far as I know this shit works with the energy that's already inside us. I think, if I use your shadow to drain you --and no, this ain't a threat-- and then stop, it's more like you've already cast without having done it. It saps the magic from your body. But I dunno, maybe. Objects, amulets, that sort of shit, yes. Been there, done that. My shadow's my guy. It's like your fire or your... bombs. It does what I ask unless I'm not focused or I try to go too far. It's... darkness in general, that's a fucking pain in the ass. Like nighttime, or a dark room. Something that's not just my shadow. It's like... if my shadow's like my trained dog who's known me my whole life, the darkness is some wild wolf with an attitude problem that sort of understands it's supposed to listen to me." He rubs absent-mindedly at his ribs with a thumb, where it had gripped him like a vice that night in the Forest. "Yeah, I could've. I think it would've drained the magic first, and then his life. It's why I chose one that looked sort of... less weak, I guess. I, uh... I've killed plenty of bugs. Plants. And a raccoon. That was an accident. So yeah."

"Yeah," Matt answers, giving a half-hearted shrug. "I wasn't, for a while. I sort of just used it to get shit that was far away or if I was bored. But after... the aetherdamn doors, and after I got that raccoon killed--I know it's dumb as shit, they're pests and it's not like I cried myself to fucking sleep, but..." It's something he hadn't considered in years; as long as he was careful and measured, as long as everything went as planned, he didn't have to consider it. "I don't know. This isn't just some bullshit power. It's..." wrong, he thinks, "I dunno. Fucked up."

PUCK

He snorts to Matt's words and shrugs. "Just pointing out the obvious, my dude. I dunno if you saw the same paintings I did, but the dude was a whole 'nother level of crazy." He didn't think he needed to explain it. The guy had rooms filled with corrupted L. Naturae, being held there against their will. Not even Slayers did that, not to LN without contracts, and he was part of the Committee, so he was playing with the ones he was supposed to protect. He had created an Oasis like Clarington's, but instead of recovering them, he was making them forget anything they ever knew about feeling human. Puck never thought he would feel sorry for the monsters he had hunted his whole life, but the bitter taste of remorse was there, right in the back of his mouth as he swallowed. Matt's eyes reflected pain, anger, fear, and Puck had seen all those expressions before in other LN while looking at him, but it was different this time: he had met Matt as a person before he found out what he really was, and his question made him look down on his plate and sigh silently. "'Cause," he grunted, voice low as if he didn't want to be heard by anyone, not even Matt. "Before I'm a Slayer, I'm black and Jewish. I know what being targeted as a risk for being who I am feels like. And you haven't done nothing wrong. Yet." After a pause, he looked back up to meet his eyes again. "But it doesn't mean I won't do it if you do happen to fuck up. I'm trying to help you out, but this is also a warning: you're under my watch now. And you will behave," he pointed out, knife facing Matt's direction one last time.

He listened carefully to his words as he ate, trying to tie every knot in his train of thought, trying to understand this affinity that had been nothing but a legend for him days ago. "So it's really like an extension of your consciousness, you'd say? I can create weapons out of anything, you can make your shadow be your secret bodyguard, something like that? But then when you're in the dark, then it becomes something different, something harder to control because it doesn't belong to you. It's no longer an extension, but a wild thing that chooses to follow you at times." He nodded to himself, taking out his Grimoire and a pen and beginning to take notes -he was not going to let himself forget that kind of information. His pen stopped as he mentioned killing a raccoon, brow raising at him before he shrugged. "Too bad that wasn't Rocket," he commented as he went back to his notes.

He looked up at Matt as he finished writing, locking eyes with him. "It doesn't have to be, if you learn to handle it. If you learn to put a barrier between the shadows and you, and you learn to make the energy within them work for your own benefit. It might take a lot of training and you might kill some other things you don't want to, but if you don't try, you will fear it forever, and never grow." He bit down on his lower lip and kept his eyes locked on the other as he wondered if he should or he shouldn't say it, but it wasn't like he had any choice. "Maybe I can help you," he said. "Maybe we can figure out a way for you to make the shadows respond to you, like I made my magic manifest in weapons. Maybe the shadows can become your allies, too."

MATT

He hums in agreement. "Fucked up." Kurt had been there for a month. Santana was there. Who knew how long those others were, and now, to think that he might've made a prized trophy to add to the collection, his discomfort is heightened. He hadn't thought he would even make half-decent bait, not if this guy might've had a hint of the belief that doppels weren't LN. But now that he's been offered this option, well, it's made even clearer that his freedom lies in Puck's hands. There are about two whole seconds where he starts letting his guard down, when Puck answers his question. He would be lying if he said that before this he hadn't thought of Puck as, at the very least, a very good teammate, and someone he could relate to. It is starting to show again, but after the pause, and at the sight of the knife, he jumps indignantly and rolls his eyes. "Fucking quit pointing shit at me," he hisses. He stays quiet for a moment, and his glare fades into a look of resignation. "Fine. What do you define as 'behave'?" he asks, with all the enthusiasm of a two year old who knows he's about to be told behaving means no ice cream.

Matt nods. "Yeah, pretty much. I think it's sort of bits and pieces of everything around me, and it doesn't give a single shit what I want. Usually it's like it's intentionally fucking with me." and although it feels like he's giving Puck control over everything he had carefully kept safe over the years, he also feels relieved. Having something, an ability like this tugging and pulling under your skin, and keeping it locked in with caution tape, when it was a part of him, has felt unbelievably restraining. The secret is at his mercy, he thinks, as Puck writes it down, but at least it's free. He frowns at his off-handed comment. "What the hell is 'Rocket'?" Was there some sort of evil raccoon in the forest that he should know about? He wouldn't be surprised.

His first thought is Puck sounds like Darrius, and that alone pisses him off. Darrius had taught him, guided him, given him more understanding about his magic than anyone else, but he doesn't know if he likes where that got him; restraint and rules that don't matter when it comes down to it. But then again, Puck sounds nothing like Darrius, who is more someone to prevent mistakes rather than learn from them. He thinks to suggest dummies, or targets, so when he suggests helping him, he's taken aback. "You want to help me?" Matt asks, and looks at Puck for a long time. "Look, dude, this shit, the darkness? It might-no, fuck that, it will hurt you. The last thing that raccoon did with its life was get the shit squeezed out of me mid-air and then dropped like an aetherdamn rag doll. My last mentor didn't fuck with this shit."

PUCK

He lets out a snicker and rolls his eyes at Matt, putting the knife. "Man, you're jumpy, ain't ya?" he teases shaking his head, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. "Behave, like... don't be showing your powers around and don't tell anyone I'm being... y'know..." Helpful? Is he really? Being a good sport? Aiding an LN? He scrunches his nose. None of those sound right. What is he doing, anyway? "Whatever. Just don't talk about it 'n shit. And don't test me. I don't like being tested."

Puck shakes his head, eyes still fixed on his Grimoire as he keeps writing down, "Nah, I don't think it is. At least not intentionally. This power... it's more like asking you to help it focus, to help it learn itself how to be gathered, how to be used and managed in a proper way..." He puts his pen down for a moment to look up and meet Matt's eyes, "See, magic and the elemental powers, they're always around us, always flowing, always changing. When you go through an Imbuement, you give something to the Aether, who in return gives you the ability of harvesting those invisible forces and use them to your own benefit. It's not different with the shadows; it can't be. They're there for you, to aid you and they're basically asking for you to learn to deal with them. All magic needs to flow, and we're only the means they use for that. People tend to think they are the ones who use magic, but that's because they don't understand no one can fully control magic. This shadows... they're just asking you to help them be guided, and you have to let them guide you first to find a balance." His eyes fall back to his book, his handwriting a bit scribbly as he writes as fast as he can. He snorts and shakes his head without looking up. "It’s a very annoying pest,” he snickers before giving him the real answer. “Santana. She's Rocket. Like 'Rocket Raccoon', from 'Guardians of the Galaxy'? It's a Marvel movie, as in comic books..." he looks up with a stupid smile on his face. "'Cause she's like a raccoon kinda thing? Get it?" He laughs at his own joke. He's hilarious.