[Even when L is caught up in a new theory, a new test...he does try to be at least superficially polite. He glances out of the corner of his eye to ensure that the SQUIP is following his instructions, satisfied that it can trust the machine's thoroughness and efficiency as he continues to work on the fairly involved and intricate scroll.

He startles to see the machine at his side, applying pressure to what is, to him, merely an open inkwell.

In spite of the press for time they have, he is touched. He just doesn't know how to express it. He just tilts his head, clears his throat ambiguously, maybe-nods.]

Perhaps you're right... but we're unstable, as you know. Our magic could benefit from some help. I'm willing to use blood for that help.

[Just as he's willing to do anything at all, to achieve his goal. The SQUIP should now well by this point that incredibly pure drive.]