[L's focus is on his breathing, longer and slower. It means something invasive and upsetting, after a long stretch of invasive and upsetting things, but it is not inherently threatening. It's a piece of crumpled-up paper that was seen by someone whose eyes it was never meant for, a few words scrawled in his spidery hand that trail off after still managing to say far too much.

He should have burned it. He's grown far too comfortable with the relative anonymity he's afforded in Aefenglom, but he was careless in this case. And lying to Myr will only prolong this discomfort. His blindness is a disadvantage to the faun, but what he feels through the Bond more than compensates for his ability to suss out a lie.]

Just... a note. I began writing it last night before Mello arrived. I wanted there to be no mistake about what I expected and agreed to, in case...

[In case I was in no shape to consent.]

I didn't like the way it read and realized it was a bad idea. I disposed of it, but... someone's taken it upon themselves to reverse my decision.

[And he doesn't think it was Mello. As thorough as L knows his former successor to be, he also knows he would have been in a rush to leave the night before, in spite of taking the time to clean L's body and ensure he was propped on his side with pillows. Searching the room's rubbish bins for an item he hadn't even witnessed the creation of wouldn't have been on his agenda.

But L has a stalker, as they both know. He brushes past Myr, dropping to his knees to look for fibers in the carpet.]

It's the season for it. If he was here, there would be traces...

[And the carpet is truly disgusting.]