hh_mirror | Owl for L!

"So it's okay? I mean, you can put other stuff onto the playlist as well. And I figured you could probably use another computer."

He can see that L likes it, but he's still (for some reason) a little anxious about the whole thing. Probably a little wound up from the job he's just completed.

"I like it. Very much." His fingers linger on the keys, on the side of the case, tracing imaginary patterns on it. "It will be most useful, and." And he likes it. Like he said, very much. He's aware that his reaction is probably ridiculous, so he clamps down on it, hard.

"I. Did your job go well?"

"Awesome," Matt says, looking pleased now. He notices that L seems to be hesitating a little as he speaks, but... well, he probably doesn't get many presents. Besides, he's too tired to make much of it.

"Pretty well. I ran into different complications than the ones I expected, but, y'know. That's the way it goes." He starts on the fries. "Anything exciting happened while I've been holed up?"

"N-not really." Take a deep breath and consider the question logically, L. "I spoke some more with the new divination professor, who seems both sociable and... philosophical. He asked me to attempt to pressure you into attending his class, in much politer terms."

Obviously, those were not the words Kusuriyuri used, but close enough for horseshoes and hand grenades.

Matt laughs. "I was thinking about it. I probably will, actually, it's not like we get a lot of them. And he seems like an interesting guy. Are you going to go?"

"I will." Despite the balance vs tact discussion they had, L did like him, quite a lot. "I think, unless I happen to be sleeping at that moment. I need to adopt something approaching a normal pattern, otherwise I am going to begin missing things. I have never before been in an environment where it mattered."

He looks Matt over.

"You look tired."

"I am. I don't really feel like sleeping, though. I need to be away from screens for a little while first."

Three days solid in front of a computer is a bit much, even for Matt.

"So you don't have any pattern at all? Or is it just a really weird one?"

"Every fifty hours or so, if I am pushing it, which... I confess, I usually am. How long, that depends on what I have been doing. I slept quite well after flying, I usually sleep well after sparring. Anywhere between three and fifteen hours at a time."

When has anything about L ever been normal.

"Would you like to go flying, perhaps? I could steer, right now I do not trust you not to hit a tree, and you could probably use a bit of... of whatever that is." Rush. Sky.

"Flying would be awesome." He'd actually been sort of tempted to try, but even Matt's aware of how dangerous that could be.

Scratch that. He's always aware of the dangers. It's just that normally he doesn't really care, or is on the ball enough to bring the risk down.

"So are you going to try to sleep more often? Or just... so that it doesn't clash with anything?" He stands up, stretching.

"I don't know. I will probably resolve to, and then abandon the idea in short order."

He's got no real motivation to pursue it, so...

"Can I leave my computer in your room in the mean time? We can be straight off."

L is even wearing his tennis shoes and sweater. (It was a cold morning, according to his internal temperature.)

"Sure. You'll just have to remember to pick it up on our way back in."

Matt opens a drawer and pulls out a spare pair of goggles, grinning at L. "Here's hoping they fit."

"I hope so." He pulls the door open, and holds it for Matt.

"You were the one who got us the broom last time, so you will have to show me where."

"Down in the grounds... it's a stadium, or something. I'm not sure what the sport would be, but it must be played on brooms."

In the corridor, Matt begins to realise how tired he actually is. Still, damned if he's going straight to bed. Especially now that they're going flying.

"Quidditch. I have been reading about it. It is rather complicated."

L starts explaining the rules as they set off on the walk down to the grounds. It's a surprisingly large castle, but Quidditch is a surprisingly complicated sport.

"... they hit flying balls at each other's heads? While they're flying?" Matt blinks. "Wow. Being able to heal injuries so easily made these guys pretty casual about it, huh?"

And, voila, they're in the Entrance Hall. It's only a short walk to the pitch, and it's lucky Matt was already wearing his vest because it's a bit chilly.

"And catching people while they hurtle downwards from great heights. I am fairly competent at hanging on to a broom, I think, but if struck in the face with a lump of metal I might lose my grip."

L is looking around for any structure that might house brooms.

There's a sort of shed to one side; that's where Matt found his broom last time, and he heads over to it now.

"It might be interesting to watch, though," he comments, looking for one sturdy enough for the both of them. "Uh - Quidditch, I mean. Not you falling off a broom."

"I think the school sometimes has games."

He could be wrong. It sounds like things have changed a lot here, from when they were described in the textbook he was reading. He selects for them a broom that looks like it's not going to drop out of the sky.

"You should know, 'mobilicorpus' catches falling bodies. In case of a crisis."

What with Murphy's Law being what it is.

"Mobilicorpus," Matt repeats. "Here's hoping I pronounce it right, if I panic." He gives L a little grin.

"School games? That sounds very... American high-school, doesn't it? I'll probably give it miss, if they do."

"And I hope so slightly more than you do. I also do not think watching me fall off a broom would be amusing. Up."

It leaps obediently into his hand, and he walks them out to a space where they've got a little more room to take off.

"Maybe a league will play somewhere. I am not sure I would attend either; I have no particular interest in viewing organized sports." Even though he did used to play.

"You won't fall off. Nobody's throwing things at us, for one thing."

He hands L the spare goggles.

"I'm not that into sports either. I like playing sports games -" he means video games, obviously "-but sitting and watching..." Matt shrugs. "I get bored too easily."

"You could play them." He pulls the goggles on, and like so much else in his life... they make him look mildly ridiculous. This time like a bizarre, big-eyed insect.

It's somehow more obvious that he's biting his bottom lip.

"On a games system, sure. I was already bad at sports before I started smoking." And he'd started smoking fairly young.

At the sight if begoggled-L, Matt ducks his head to hide a laugh behind his collar. "You look awesome," he says. (You can sort of hear the laugh in his voice, nevertheless.) "You're sure you don't want me to steer?"

"That's right. Cigarettes do have that affect." He climbs on to the broom, at the front. "Maybe if the cold air wakes you up a little, yell and we can land and switch places. But it is really best that you do not, I think."

L has no interest in plummeting to his doom; even though he can't technically die, heights are bad enough as it is.

"I think being able to breathe is a key part of sports," Matt agrees.

He gets onto the broom behind L, then hesitates. Because Mello had asked, and Konata, and even Near had joked about it, and he isn't sure but he doesn't to make L uncomfortable nevertheless...

"Do you have a - like, a personal contact thing?" (He already asked this when they were making their way back from Slytherin the very first time, which is why he can't remember doing so.)

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