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hh_mirror2008-03-09 06:02 pm
ijk-mno.livejournal.com) wrote in hh_mirror2008-03-09 06:02 pm
Entry tags:
Unpopcorning of L
Pop!
There is nothing so disorienting as one moment, knowing where you are, and the next, not.
That’s not to say L has an idea where he just was. But wherever it was, he was content there. He may not have had all the answers to his questions, or perhaps he doesn’t just remember them, but it was a comfortable state to be in.
Whereas now, he doesn’t.
It’s not very often that L is completely confused. Whether or not he has all the answers to the problem, he can usually formulate some sort of guess. The universe tends to conform to certain rational standards; if an unseen figure sets tea down at his elbow, it is usually Watari. If a woman is missing and her husband is on the television pleading for her safe return, he is usually responsible. They are simple formulas that, while not always universal, get him comfortably through the day.
There is nothing comfortable, universal, or logical about this. He takes a step, slips, and finds himself sprawled on the floor and coated in what smells like butter. He discerns that he’s surrounded by popcorn.
Ahead of him is a door. In that list of rational standards, there’s another rule. Doors lead somewhere. So L makes his way towards it, gingerly. The slightly scrawny, extremely pale, twenty year old detective (who already has deep dark circles etched underneath his eyes) pokes his head out uncertainly.
“Excuse me?”
[ooc: this L is pre-canon, and will remember nothing of past interactions here. Under new management.]
There is nothing so disorienting as one moment, knowing where you are, and the next, not.
That’s not to say L has an idea where he just was. But wherever it was, he was content there. He may not have had all the answers to his questions, or perhaps he doesn’t just remember them, but it was a comfortable state to be in.
Whereas now, he doesn’t.
It’s not very often that L is completely confused. Whether or not he has all the answers to the problem, he can usually formulate some sort of guess. The universe tends to conform to certain rational standards; if an unseen figure sets tea down at his elbow, it is usually Watari. If a woman is missing and her husband is on the television pleading for her safe return, he is usually responsible. They are simple formulas that, while not always universal, get him comfortably through the day.
There is nothing comfortable, universal, or logical about this. He takes a step, slips, and finds himself sprawled on the floor and coated in what smells like butter. He discerns that he’s surrounded by popcorn.
Ahead of him is a door. In that list of rational standards, there’s another rule. Doors lead somewhere. So L makes his way towards it, gingerly. The slightly scrawny, extremely pale, twenty year old detective (who already has deep dark circles etched underneath his eyes) pokes his head out uncertainly.
“Excuse me?”
[ooc: this L is pre-canon, and will remember nothing of past interactions here. Under new management.]
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"That is reassuring to learn."
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There's a small pop and one appears in the centre of the room, bowing and scraping already. Before it can speak Matt cuts in with, "Uh, we'd just like these cleaned, please. Quick as possible. Send them back to Mr Ryuuzaki's room." The house-elf bows to them both (huge ears flapping with the motion), takes the clothes, and disappears just as quickly.
"They give me the creeps," Matt says.
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"I can see why. Should I choose one of the rooms now?"
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"If you like - any of the ones that are free, I think. Want me to come with?"
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"That might be helpful. I am not sure which rooms are taken."
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Matt leads him out into the main Ravenclaw corridor.
"I think almost all of these ones are free, actually... Mello and Near are over there." He indicates a door a little further along, on the opposite side. "They're all different sizes. Ones on that side have windows, too."
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It's Near. He's a small person. His lung capacity cannot be massive.
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"Down this way, maybe?" Mello and Near stay four doors to the right of Matt; a room further to the left, on their side, would probably do.
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He delivers this absolutely seriously.
"I would rather not move out of the frying pan, into the fire."
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"This suits me fine." He saw a little out of the window. They're high enough up.
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He adds this because if there is one way to prove that you totally don't care about something, it's to continue talking about it after the subject has been dropped.
"When I got here, some of my stuff started appearing under the bed. Pretty handy system, even if most of it was stuff I'd lost years ago."
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He doesn't have anything of particular sentimental value, but whatever appears will be useful.
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He knows Matt will be above the level of 'pick it up at future shop.'
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A hint of real excitement in his voice as he speaks; this is his sort of challenge.
no subject
He smiles.
"Thank you for your help, Matt. I will return your clothes when I have mine again."
no subject
And he left, already rummaging for another cigarette.