[Mello can probably feel the cold, sharp spike of indignation that lances their Bond. L often seems childish, informal or even slovenly, but something about this current situation doesn't sit well or easily with him. Even by his standards this isn't somewhere he expected or wished to wake up; something has slipped out of his control, perhaps "only" for an evening, but... when something reaches a point like this, it's been out of control for much longer in actuality, hasn't it?
It doesn't have to be if he doesn't dwell on it. Aren't there always more important ways to occupy his thoughts, than whatever broken facsimile of humanity he regularly walks around resembling?]
Thank you for saving me the trouble of looking into a mirror today.
[Intoned dryly. Because while L isn't a vain man, the SQUIP drilled the idea of looking better into his mind, as well as how useful it could be for gaining the kind of social favor that came so easily to people like Light Yagami and Mello. Probably doesn't matter, now that it's gone; he only ever bothered to dress or ornament himself for its sake because it found the process pleasing, but for no other reason. In the end, he was taking grim and haughty pride in the thought that he was the superior machine, even if it largely came from the SQUIP being broken by others who just didn't understand it.]
What time is it?
[He sounds surprised that it's morning already. He reaches up, his fingers searching for his own half-full cup of ice-cold coffee that he left by his books the night before.]
no subject
It doesn't have to be if he doesn't dwell on it. Aren't there always more important ways to occupy his thoughts, than whatever broken facsimile of humanity he regularly walks around resembling?]
Thank you for saving me the trouble of looking into a mirror today.
[Intoned dryly. Because while L isn't a vain man, the SQUIP drilled the idea of looking better into his mind, as well as how useful it could be for gaining the kind of social favor that came so easily to people like Light Yagami and Mello. Probably doesn't matter, now that it's gone; he only ever bothered to dress or ornament himself for its sake because it found the process pleasing, but for no other reason. In the end, he was taking grim and haughty pride in the thought that he was the superior machine, even if it largely came from the SQUIP being broken by others who just didn't understand it.]
What time is it?
[He sounds surprised that it's morning already. He reaches up, his fingers searching for his own half-full cup of ice-cold coffee that he left by his books the night before.]