[Why is he drinking at this hour? Mello has always rejected being off his head; there's too much to accomplish. Always has been. Even now, he has things he needs to do, and he's drowning anxieties and emotions with a dark, sweet liquor. It's pathetic. It's what men lesser than him do.]

I feel it because you feel it.

[And that's the fucking truth.]

If it's my burden to bear, it would be different. I would be able to approach it differently knowing that it wasn't affecting you in any way.

[Still, he goes about pouring L a glass. Half-full; nothing indulgent. He clinks the bottom of it against the counter, slides it over as though he were at work serving a patron.]

Nothing is too much for me.

[Grave.]

Except for the task of getting you to trust me.

[When he looks at L now, his eyes are clear. Determined.]

Let me. This isn't about you. [He pauses, takes another sip. It goes to his head rather quickly.] I'll find a way. Never doubt that.