[L is, for a moment, a ghostly after-image leftover after a train has smashed into a body and dragged it miles down the rails in a smear of grease and bone paste. He sways where he stands, because there's been a shift in balance here, even if it's not a material one. Maybe it's a significant exchange, a step toward Mello not merely revering him, and actually progressing towards true understanding that L is only, if scarcely, human.
He takes the coffee Mello offers, drinking deeply, letting it wash away the sins of the evening prior even if it's only replaced with a new kind of bitterness through the sugar and cream.]
It's a kind of pain.
[He thinks. His uncertainty tints the Bond they share, a shrouded red mist hanging over the icy diamond-studded night that is usually preternaturally crisp and clear in L's mindscape.]
And it's substantial. I don't...
[Can he admit this to a successor? Who would admonish him? Is the admonishment inherent, underscoring all they say to each other and its potential consequences?]
no subject
He takes the coffee Mello offers, drinking deeply, letting it wash away the sins of the evening prior even if it's only replaced with a new kind of bitterness through the sugar and cream.]
It's a kind of pain.
[He thinks. His uncertainty tints the Bond they share, a shrouded red mist hanging over the icy diamond-studded night that is usually preternaturally crisp and clear in L's mindscape.]
And it's substantial. I don't...
[Can he admit this to a successor? Who would admonish him? Is the admonishment inherent, underscoring all they say to each other and its potential consequences?]
I'm not sure what to do next.