Unpopcorning of L
Mar. 9th, 2008 06:02 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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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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Date: 2008-03-11 04:43 am (UTC)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.
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Date: 2008-03-11 04:47 am (UTC)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.
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Date: 2008-03-11 04:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-11 04:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-11 05:00 am (UTC)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...
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Date: 2008-03-11 05:10 am (UTC)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."
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Date: 2008-03-11 05:18 am (UTC)Which is when Matt notices that L is barefoot. "I think I have another pair of boots, if you want some shoes..."
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Date: 2008-03-11 05:21 am (UTC)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."
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Date: 2008-03-11 05:31 am (UTC)"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."
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Date: 2008-03-11 05:37 am (UTC)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?"
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Date: 2008-03-11 05:45 am (UTC)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?"
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Date: 2008-03-11 05:47 am (UTC)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."
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Date: 2008-03-11 08:13 pm (UTC)He really needed a computer.
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Date: 2008-03-11 10:42 pm (UTC)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."
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Date: 2008-03-12 10:28 pm (UTC)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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Date: 2008-03-12 10:34 pm (UTC)"I did not believe magic existed."
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Date: 2008-03-12 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-12 10:48 pm (UTC)Matt mentioned this before, but only in passing. L tucks a strand of stubbornly damp hair behind his ear, and watches Matt smoke.
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Date: 2008-03-12 10:54 pm (UTC)"The last case we were working on involved shinigami. Real ones. Well - I never met one, but Mello did. From what I hear he wrapped it right around hit little finger just like any of his Mafia underlings, but it bailed out in the middle of a raid." Matt laughs, shaking his head. Only Mello could do it.
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Date: 2008-03-12 10:56 pm (UTC)It is, after all, Mello.
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Date: 2008-03-12 11:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-12 11:03 pm (UTC)He's kind of gone-looking. It's from trying to picture what a shinigami must look like.
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Date: 2008-03-12 11:13 pm (UTC)"You haven't met grown-up Mello yet, have you?"
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Date: 2008-03-12 11:16 pm (UTC)He's been following them, their reports, papers, tests, results, for a long time.
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Date: 2008-03-12 11:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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