[L stares at their overlapping hands, swallowing painfully past the bruising in his throat that no amount of glamour can hide from his own knowledge. He doesn't have Myr's faith, or even his confidence; Mello loves (loved?) him too, after all, and it hadn't stopped him from handling L like someone he's grown to despise. L's emotionally resilient, but can he really handle that from Myr, should it come to that?

Trusting that Myr won't change his mind with further closeness is so much to ask of L. He'd rather see a distant light than lose its presence entirely in his life, and though he's rather known for taking risks to get closer to his goal, this feels too risky. But the waiter has returned and brought those boxes and their aromas, and it's a reminder of L's hunger and the many things that are affecting the way he's thinking at present.

Myr's Bonded to this fucked-up mess, and hasn't walked yet. If there's a time to trust absolutely, maybe it's now, out of necessity if nothing else.

He stands, breathing through his body's protests. Myr was right about this, too; a healer will be necessary at some point, and they had better be discreet. He gingerly reaches for the crook of the Faun's elbow once the boxes are in hand, and he asks]

Have you teleported with a witch before? It can be disorienting, but... it's probably the quickest way back to the inn.

[A.K.A., the brothel, and L would rather not limp the distance even if it tests the limits of his magic to get there in one trip.]