[The cognac is a relief, an excuse, a pardon. L reaches for it without hesitating, topping off his glass though he hasn't even finished what's currently in it. Sweet ruin, with a bite to it... just like his flaxen-haired successor, near enough to close hands around his neck should he wish to, should protection cease to be his primary motive.

Because really, L does believe that Mello will take everything to a destructive extreme. He's the child who clutches a sick sparrow too tightly, drowning it with an eyedropper with the very best of intentions.]

Yes. I do.

[L does not deign to comment on Mello's derisive nickname for Myr, the childish way he invokes it to soothe his own raging insecurity.]

He built it in pieces, as one builds a dwelling, and not a monument. He'd kill or die for me, and I'd grieve both of those things, knowing the value he places even on an enemy's life.