[L can't help but wonder sometimes if Shōyō’s full of freudian slips, attempts at flirtation, or else just blithe unawareness to how constant references to his "balls" and "jumping" others might come across. He finds that none of those answers actually pertub him, just that he might mildly prefer some of them to others.
His own soft secret to keep, maybe.
He blinks at the two birds at the door, one he recognizes as Picanha and the other he's never seen. He peers inside at Shōyō’s ongoing struggle, and it's so absurd that it's easy, for a moment, to forget about everything else.]
Do... you need any help...?
[He stands awkwardly with his backpack, not removing his coat; all he's got is his robe, dark enough that the blood stains don't show up. His boots are filthy enough (and also bloody) to merit removal, and his feet don't look much cleaner.
If he's not offered one while he's here, he'll ask to bathe as well, because while the Emperor had healed him, the remnants of sweat and grease and blood still stain him. Additionally, Lycka is nowhere to be seen, which is unusual for him.]
no subject
His own soft secret to keep, maybe.
He blinks at the two birds at the door, one he recognizes as Picanha and the other he's never seen. He peers inside at Shōyō’s ongoing struggle, and it's so absurd that it's easy, for a moment, to forget about everything else.]
Do... you need any help...?
[He stands awkwardly with his backpack, not removing his coat; all he's got is his robe, dark enough that the blood stains don't show up. His boots are filthy enough (and also bloody) to merit removal, and his feet don't look much cleaner.
If he's not offered one while he's here, he'll ask to bathe as well, because while the Emperor had healed him, the remnants of sweat and grease and blood still stain him. Additionally, Lycka is nowhere to be seen, which is unusual for him.]