[L has a way of twisting Mello's words and intentions in order to get exactly what he wants, doesn't he? His successor lets out a little huff at the rhetorical question; of course it's not too much. Does he think Mello so incompetent?]
[Pride will do funny things. Like prevent Mello from pressing the subject. L wants drugs so he doesn't have to mourn a lover? Fine. People have done more for less, and Mello drains his glass, pushes the bottle closer to his idol without a word.]
[Then he's slipping on his coat and boots, running his fingers through pale hair before tying it into a tail at his nape. It's grown since arriving here, just an inch or two. Enough for it to be in his face, and he's taken to wearing it pulled back. The swiftness with which he snatches the key from the counter denotes annoyance, but he's got nothing left to say.]
[Actions have always spoken louder than words.]
[When he returns two hours later, he's visibly more off his head than when he left. His connections are slim and not what he would consider trustworthy; it was only natural to test the product before bringing something potentially deadly home to his Bonded. He slips through the door without a word, closing and locking it behind him. L might note that his movements are more languid, relaxed. There's a slight droop to his eyelids that has replaced the glassiness from the cognac; that has worn off to the end of a headache. A throbbing around his temples, and Mello rubs at his forehead before going into his pocket to deliver what L asked.]
You're paying next time.
[Cantankerous thing that he is. The amount and potency he obtained didn't come cheap, and there's no way anyone could sustain a habit like this on a tavern income, even if Mello gets his cash on the side.]
[He withdraws two glass bottles filled with small, pressed powder. Pills in this area come in the form of bringing the loose contents to something of a pharmacist who then pressed them down for him to obtain desired potency per dose. Which was an extra charge.]
The brown ones are derived from Valerian root with other herbal elements; it's essentially the equivalent of a benzodiazepine from home. [He shakes the bottle.] It's much stronger.
[The next bottle he presents: the pills are much smaller, pure yellow in color.] Derived from Poppies. Don't think I need to explain these.
[Mello sets them down, head positively spinning from the combination of the two on top of a day's worth of drinking.] Don't take them together.
no subject
[Pride will do funny things. Like prevent Mello from pressing the subject. L wants drugs so he doesn't have to mourn a lover? Fine. People have done more for less, and Mello drains his glass, pushes the bottle closer to his idol without a word.]
[Then he's slipping on his coat and boots, running his fingers through pale hair before tying it into a tail at his nape. It's grown since arriving here, just an inch or two. Enough for it to be in his face, and he's taken to wearing it pulled back. The swiftness with which he snatches the key from the counter denotes annoyance, but he's got nothing left to say.]
[Actions have always spoken louder than words.]
[When he returns two hours later, he's visibly more off his head than when he left. His connections are slim and not what he would consider trustworthy; it was only natural to test the product before bringing something potentially deadly home to his Bonded. He slips through the door without a word, closing and locking it behind him. L might note that his movements are more languid, relaxed. There's a slight droop to his eyelids that has replaced the glassiness from the cognac; that has worn off to the end of a headache. A throbbing around his temples, and Mello rubs at his forehead before going into his pocket to deliver what L asked.]
You're paying next time.
[Cantankerous thing that he is. The amount and potency he obtained didn't come cheap, and there's no way anyone could sustain a habit like this on a tavern income, even if Mello gets his cash on the side.]
[He withdraws two glass bottles filled with small, pressed powder. Pills in this area come in the form of bringing the loose contents to something of a pharmacist who then pressed them down for him to obtain desired potency per dose. Which was an extra charge.]
The brown ones are derived from Valerian root with other herbal elements; it's essentially the equivalent of a benzodiazepine from home. [He shakes the bottle.] It's much stronger.
[The next bottle he presents: the pills are much smaller, pure yellow in color.] Derived from Poppies. Don't think I need to explain these.
[Mello sets them down, head positively spinning from the combination of the two on top of a day's worth of drinking.] Don't take them together.
[Because right now? He's not feeling so great.]