[The analysis is depressing, and might actually be accurate. The fact that L doesn't immediately and instinctively resist the hand around his throat is a strong indicator that self-destruction was a source, at least. His eyes don't leave the SQUIP's face at the contact; maybe he welcomes it, maybe he would even dare it if he could identify the hollow emotion he feels as anger. But everything that was alive and white-hot and furious last night has returned to a languid lacquer, far more typical for the unexpressive and distant detective.
But his pulse still goes like a rabbit's under the loose but significant placement of the SQUIP's fingers.]
I don't know what I wanted. I know what I didn't, and that's what happened.
[Somehow. He was in control of some actions, specifically choosing to maliciously drink so much, but his intelligence and arrogance caused him to dramatically overestimate his tolerance and the effects it might have on him. In truth, L believed while he was recklessly imbibing that at worst, he would go home, say some cruel and unfair things, and then fall asleep, not...
no subject
But his pulse still goes like a rabbit's under the loose but significant placement of the SQUIP's fingers.]
I don't know what I wanted. I know what I didn't, and that's what happened.
[Somehow. He was in control of some actions, specifically choosing to maliciously drink so much, but his intelligence and arrogance caused him to dramatically overestimate his tolerance and the effects it might have on him. In truth, L believed while he was recklessly imbibing that at worst, he would go home, say some cruel and unfair things, and then fall asleep, not...
...that.]