[John's gesture of placation does very little to soothe or assuage L's reaction to his very presence. Worse, it's a very pure and unfiltered reaction, nearly childlike through its impulsive absence of guile. It's a sign of emotion and a sign of weakness. L, with an apex predator for an Omen, should be better than this, and his reaction is one that annoys and angers him maybe more than it does the Emperor.
His stare is fixed, his breath slow and shallow. With every muscle tense, he spares Light a darting glance at his approach, and he can't tell, in his heart of pounding hearts, whether he feels dread or excitement.
They could kill each other.
L's purpose, direction, and passion have always been wrapped up in his enemies, and he has to admit that the spectacle would be truly thrilling. It would end, though, as all spectacles must. If they devour each other, will L be left to devour himself? The image of a tough and bloody heart on a plate of bone china flashes behind his eyes, and every imagined bite sends lances of regret through his chest.
Better to guard his heart and all the strange, contradictory, absurd things that make it tick, though his desires are so contradictory that it's difficult to determine how one could fully grant or dash any two harmoniously.
Sometimes L can find a way, though. His eyes and mind are so quick that even in the moment of instinctive chaos, he was able to read the gist of the titles in John's arms.]
It's alright, Light. People have dropped worse things, you know.
[Though he addresses his original, great foe, his eyes don't leave the one he found in Trench.]
no subject
His stare is fixed, his breath slow and shallow. With every muscle tense, he spares Light a darting glance at his approach, and he can't tell, in his heart of pounding hearts, whether he feels dread or excitement.
They could kill each other.
L's purpose, direction, and passion have always been wrapped up in his enemies, and he has to admit that the spectacle would be truly thrilling. It would end, though, as all spectacles must. If they devour each other, will L be left to devour himself? The image of a tough and bloody heart on a plate of bone china flashes behind his eyes, and every imagined bite sends lances of regret through his chest.
Better to guard his heart and all the strange, contradictory, absurd things that make it tick, though his desires are so contradictory that it's difficult to determine how one could fully grant or dash any two harmoniously.
Sometimes L can find a way, though. His eyes and mind are so quick that even in the moment of instinctive chaos, he was able to read the gist of the titles in John's arms.]
It's alright, Light. People have dropped worse things, you know.
[Though he addresses his original, great foe, his eyes don't leave the one he found in Trench.]