[A side program of sorts is whirring in the back of L's mind, wondering what he's left here that he shouldn't, if he's managed to collect everything he needs to or if anything he leaves could be incriminating or used to hurt him later. The letter, he will take, and burn, and he'll wash his hands of the fur as soon as possible. An internal debate orbits itself like a binary star system, weighing whether or not he should tell Myr about Niles, or the fact that the chimera could be on his way here, now.
They could move on, they should move on. But L is a mass of pain; like anything wounded, his progress will be halting and difficult, in more ways than affect the visceral meat of his body.]
Thank you for being here. I know it's not easy.
[And there are other things Myr would rather be doing, other ways he would rather spend his morning, other sensations and emotions he would rather feel. No amount of care can turn someone into a true masochist.]
We... should go, shouldn't we?
[L reaches for the crook of Myr's arm, not alone, but resisting the urge to lean.]
no subject
They could move on, they should move on. But L is a mass of pain; like anything wounded, his progress will be halting and difficult, in more ways than affect the visceral meat of his body.]
Thank you for being here. I know it's not easy.
[And there are other things Myr would rather be doing, other ways he would rather spend his morning, other sensations and emotions he would rather feel. No amount of care can turn someone into a true masochist.]
We... should go, shouldn't we?
[L reaches for the crook of Myr's arm, not alone, but resisting the urge to lean.]