L has wondered about Light's capacity for such matters, maybe from the moment he'd observed his taste in perhaps the tamest and most softcore pornography one could purchase in as endlessly creative a country as Japan. It had seemed, even then, like a performance for the benefit of suspicious prying eyes. It had been notable, the high-gloss careful way that Light had comported himself even in private, almost as if he knew that someone was watching him.
No; not just "someone." More exciting than magazines to both of them, perhaps. Even now, the recollection of it (inexact and obscured, as it must be for the sake of the game) casts a fond glow over the Bond from L's side.
When Myr is mentioned, it's accompanied by a spark; brief and heatless, very bright. It's perhaps the only way Light would pick up on L's otherwise subtle amusement. Oh, are you fishing, Light Yagami?
"Yes," he confirms, intentionally and perhaps frustratingly sparse on details. "Truly, I have Myr."
Myr, who deeply loves a man who is difficult to love. Myr, who has not been by often lately, but retreats at night to a room with L where there is just one bed. Myr, for whose benefit exists an illusory shrine to his religion though he cannot even see it in L's room.
But while Light thinks a certain way about lust and grapples with how to apply it to the detective, there are many ways to express affection and desire, and to experience their connection to the body. Even now, the precise nature of L's relationship with Myr remains difficult to discern from the outside.
"In our world, I had Watari. He was skilled at heading off some difficult things before they became real problems... if I asked for something he usually trusted that I needed it, and didn't ask questions."
L says so casually, perhaps not information that Light couldn't at least assume based on glimpses of L's interactions with the older man, but there's still a cold professionalism that might be jarring, given that Watari was L's only notable personal relationship until Light came along.
"Suffice it to say that the needs I judged relevant were seen to, in ways that could keep my cases my very first priority."
A pattern emerges based on what Light's seen, filled in by fragments of what he hasn't. Shortcuts to distance himself from his distracting humanity had featured prominently in the time he'd been handcuffed to L, in ways he wouldn't have noticed otherwise. Coffee when sleep wasn't possible, and then more coffee, and occasionally something stronger. Sugary and calorie-dense foods to keep L running when he seemed too wired and agitated to sit still long enough for a proper meal. Discreet pills brought at various points, palmed and swallowed without a second glance so long as they came from his trusted handler, their purposes never mentioned or explained.
no subject
No; not just "someone." More exciting than magazines to both of them, perhaps. Even now, the recollection of it (inexact and obscured, as it must be for the sake of the game) casts a fond glow over the Bond from L's side.
When Myr is mentioned, it's accompanied by a spark; brief and heatless, very bright. It's perhaps the only way Light would pick up on L's otherwise subtle amusement. Oh, are you fishing, Light Yagami?
"Yes," he confirms, intentionally and perhaps frustratingly sparse on details. "Truly, I have Myr."
Myr, who deeply loves a man who is difficult to love. Myr, who has not been by often lately, but retreats at night to a room with L where there is just one bed. Myr, for whose benefit exists an illusory shrine to his religion though he cannot even see it in L's room.
But while Light thinks a certain way about lust and grapples with how to apply it to the detective, there are many ways to express affection and desire, and to experience their connection to the body. Even now, the precise nature of L's relationship with Myr remains difficult to discern from the outside.
"In our world, I had Watari. He was skilled at heading off some difficult things before they became real problems... if I asked for something he usually trusted that I needed it, and didn't ask questions."
L says so casually, perhaps not information that Light couldn't at least assume based on glimpses of L's interactions with the older man, but there's still a cold professionalism that might be jarring, given that Watari was L's only notable personal relationship until Light came along.
"Suffice it to say that the needs I judged relevant were seen to, in ways that could keep my cases my very first priority."
A pattern emerges based on what Light's seen, filled in by fragments of what he hasn't. Shortcuts to distance himself from his distracting humanity had featured prominently in the time he'd been handcuffed to L, in ways he wouldn't have noticed otherwise. Coffee when sleep wasn't possible, and then more coffee, and occasionally something stronger. Sugary and calorie-dense foods to keep L running when he seemed too wired and agitated to sit still long enough for a proper meal. Discreet pills brought at various points, palmed and swallowed without a second glance so long as they came from his trusted handler, their purposes never mentioned or explained.