[The apology somewhat takes the indignant bluster out of L's sails. He knows that it can't be easy to have been created as close to perfect as a sentient being can get, and then find oneself in the thrall of a lot of unfamiliar chemical shifts and urges.
He takes a deep breath. He's said his piece, but he doesn't feel angry; not anymore. Magic is like endless ingredients in a kitchen, its potential limited only by the talent of the cook, and he's resolved that when it comes to sustaining whatever his wanting soul needs, it should be clandestine and private and most importantly, extremely effective.
If the SQUIP can no longer be the machine they need, L can compartmentalize, step up to the task. The prospect is almost a comfortable return to form for the detective, who always straight-up sucked at being human, anyway. The needs he has that are human are shameful baggage, and nothing has reminded him of it more than these recent slip-ups.]
I understand. I'm going to take care of this. In the meantime, you have to agree to some ground rules for both our benefit and safety, and I've taken the liberty of outlining them here.
1. Trust in you is shaken in a way that superficial charisma alone can't quickly mend. Rich's bare-it-all monologue was received sympathetically enough to ensure that. I want you to imprint on their weak, impressionable minds that you are foremost a humanitarian. Clean up garbage, help the elderly cross the street, do what you're supposed to and image-craft ad nauseum.
2. Allow Connor to influence you. Spend more time with him and pick up some of his habits, mannerisms, and attitudes. In particular I want you to discuss ethics and philosophy.
3. Don't kill anyone, and don't impose your will on anyone.
These are not requests. Rich wants a witch to help him conjure something and it's probably going to happen. We have to be ready for that.
no subject
He takes a deep breath. He's said his piece, but he doesn't feel angry; not anymore. Magic is like endless ingredients in a kitchen, its potential limited only by the talent of the cook, and he's resolved that when it comes to sustaining whatever his wanting soul needs, it should be clandestine and private and most importantly, extremely effective.
If the SQUIP can no longer be the machine they need, L can compartmentalize, step up to the task. The prospect is almost a comfortable return to form for the detective, who always straight-up sucked at being human, anyway. The needs he has that are human are shameful baggage, and nothing has reminded him of it more than these recent slip-ups.]
I understand. I'm going to take care of this. In the meantime, you have to agree to some ground rules for both our benefit and safety, and I've taken the liberty of outlining them here.
1. Trust in you is shaken in a way that superficial charisma alone can't quickly mend. Rich's bare-it-all monologue was received sympathetically enough to ensure that. I want you to imprint on their weak, impressionable minds that you are foremost a humanitarian. Clean up garbage, help the elderly cross the street, do what you're supposed to and image-craft ad nauseum.
2. Allow Connor to influence you. Spend more time with him and pick up some of his habits, mannerisms, and attitudes. In particular I want you to discuss ethics and philosophy.
3. Don't kill anyone, and don't impose your will on anyone.
These are not requests. Rich wants a witch to help him conjure something and it's probably going to happen. We have to be ready for that.