hh_mirror | Unpopcorning of L

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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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yeah - yeah, I'd like that. I hate having to go to stores for this stuff." Or at all, really. "Company would be good. I feel way too disconnected without any net access."

Matt flicked away his finished cigarette. "There's a village nearby, with a train station. I think there's a service to Aberdeen, but that's about it. Apart from that, we're surrounded by forests, lochs and hills and not much else."

L hasn't been outside of urban sprawl in years. The idea of not being a taxi flag away from disappearing into the background sets his teeth on edge, a little. As well connected as he is, his resources will not extend this far.

"Scotland, you said."

"Scotland," he confirms. "Any of your adventures ever brought you here? I know mine haven't."

"A few years ago. Longer than that, actually. I was young, I did not see much. Certainly none of the sort of landscape you are describing."

Major city centers.

Matt gives L a curious glance. "I get it if you'd rather not answer, but... how old are you, right now? You look about the same age as me..."

He pulls open a door, pretty much at random. Nothing but a classroom. Oh well.

"The magical room of computers might be a wild goose chase after all. Going to a town's probably more sensible." Matt thinks for a moment. "The train station was pretty deserted, and I didn't see any cars in the village. Unless the place is really self-sufficient, there must be some other way of getting around..."

"I have just turned twenty. Watari got me a very good novel for my birthday and I am afraid that I will be unable to finish it, now."

Woe is L!

"I confess. I would not be sorry to stop searching. I am still butter-coated." That isn't getting any more comfortable.

"We are the same age, then. Sort of. I died just before my twentieth - according to Near that was three years ago, but if people are appearing from different points of time, that might not be exactly right. What book did he get you?"

Comfortable... oh!

"Um," Matt says, aware that he's just lead L around a magical castle covered in drying butter. Whoops. "Yeah, we should try... doing something about that, huh."

((OOC: Heh - Matt would offer him use of his shower, but that happens downthread with Near, right? TIME PARADOX WHOOPS))

"That would be greatly appreciated." A little bit of a sigh in his tone. No, as mentioned, he is not precisely a germophobe, but he does like to be clean.

"It was the Double, by Dostoevsky. At Wammy's, you would probably have read Crime and Punishment, or be just about to... which way is it?"

"Up this way - there's a sort of short-cut..." He leads them up the corridor, then through one of the passages hidden by a tapestry.

Okay, so maybe some of his wandering wasn't quite that aimless.

"I remember Crime and Punishment - English was one of the classes they let Mello and I sit next to each other. God knows why..." he grins, recalling the class.

"I did not hear that."

He imagines it must have been quite the disturbance. Oh well, the time is passed. He slips behind the tapestry, one hand on the wall.

"The architect of this place must have been a madman."

"Yeah. Good times." Mello had freaked out when he realised that he was performing two percentage points lower in that class than any others, but Matt had found that sort of funny as well, so things had worked out alright.

They turn a corner, and the passage they're walking along becomes, quite smoothly, a stepless spiral. "Yeah, I think I agree with you..." At the top of the spiral they emerge from another tapestry; down a short set of stairs, across a hall, and -

"This one's mine," Matt says, opening a door to reveal a small-but-comfortable room. There are several gaming systems and a pilfered TV set. And games, of course. A lot of games.

"And you have no objection to lending me your shower?"

L certainly hopes not. For one thing, it will afford him a few moments to process all that has happened; something that certainly needs doing, as soon as he can manage.

"Not at all, it's just through there." He gestures to a small en-suite bathroom. "I'll try and look out some clean clothes for you..."

"You have been most helpful." He has a smile that you would not expect him to have. "I will only be a moment."

Matt nods, blinking a little at the smile. "Sure, take your time."

With L in the shower, Matt attempts to both straighten up his room a little (so many discs out of their cases! And... shit, is that Near's shirt?) and find some clean clothes L can borrow. A red shirt - striped with black, of course - and a pair of jeans...

A long, pale arm sneaks out of the door frame (attached to a barely glimpsed, dripping shoulder) and drags the clothing into the bathroom, eventually.

A minute or two later, he emerges. The sweater fits him oddly, large at the shoulder, short on the arm, obviously, and makes him look silly and pale and dark eyed, and his hair is still dripping, though he's toweling the ends.

He's taller than he looks. When he's not slouching, he stands at 5'10. The problem is, he always slouches.

"That is a considerable improvement."

"What were you covered in, anyway?" Matt ducks his head a little to cover a grin at L's appearance. He wonders vaguely what the man would look like wearing goggles, but his eyes are so wide they might not even fit properly.

Which is when Matt notices that L is barefoot. "I think I have another pair of boots, if you want some shoes..."

"No, thank you," he says immediately, toes curling slightly and feet wandering a little closer together. "Footwear impedes my ability to reason."

His feet shift again; if he has anything approaching a nervous tell, it would be his feet.

"I believe it was butter. I appeared in a room full of large amounts of oversized popcorn."

Matt nods. If Near thinks best in pyjamas and Mello in leather boy-slut clothes, a no-footwear rule seems pretty reasonable.

"I'd noticed the popcorn before... They're all very carefully labelled, a name per kernel. I thought it might some kind of weird tribute to the dead, or something." He regards L thoughtfully, then laughs, shaking his head. Some things were just too weird to consider seriously.

There's no seats in the room (he'd actually swapped a rather comfortable-looking chair for the TV, so technically it was a trade rather than out-and-out appropriation of school property) but he gestures towards the bed. "You can have a seat if you like."

"I will."

He does not sit normally, but then, did Matt really expect L to be normal? He's not playing with toys or dressing oddly, but he has his own particular ways. Habits, that he sees no point in breaking. One is to perch, rather than sit.

Which takes balance, when you're still drying your hair while doing so. But L has practice.

"How long have you been here?"

"About... a week and a half, maybe? It's sort of difficult to tell. I was pretty shocked the first couple of days, especially before Mello got here. Must be even weirder for you."

Out of respect, he sits against the wall facing L, rather than squishing up beside him on the bed. He pulls out his packet of smokes before glancing up at the detective. "Uh - you don't mind if I have one, do you?"

"I do not know. I would not mind finding out."

He might have objected, if Matt were alive, but he certainly has no place doing so now. The dead probably can't get lung cancer.

"Go ahead."

"So what're you going to do?" Matt asks, lighting up. "Stay here? I'm not sure how the timeline thing's going to work, but presumably there's some way to return to 1999..." Come to think of it, Matt couldn't say for certain what year it actually was - too many different opinions, too many people from different worlds, different times...

He really needed a computer.

"I will investigate how that might be possible, but for now, I will remain."

He tugs absently at the sleeve of the sweater, trying to get it to come down to his wrist, and then settles for pushing it up to the elbow when it won't.

"It would not do to leave with undue haste, having only just arrived."

He watches L's discomfort in his clothes. "Um, I think I spotted a shirt of Near's in here, but he's even shorter than I am - but if you'd prefer it..."

A long, slow, exhale - Matt likes watching the quick plume smoke being propelled out of his lungs. God knows why. Leaving behind little pieces of poison and ick in his lungs... heh. "And you want to know what this place is about, right? I'd never heard of it - well, I know that's not much. But not one out of three of us had, and if you hadn't, either..."

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