[It's never taken much to push Mello over the edge. The assault created something of a survival instinct, and L's bloody hands paint a picture that he'd rather not see.]

[There's nothing here. Never will be. Even as his shoulders and back twitch from the pain, he reminds himself of one thing.]

[This L isn't his L. They've both grown. Adapted. Mello offered an olive branch and L countered with a fucking butcher knife.]

L.

[As he rights himself. This has quickly become war.]

Stay the fuck away from my girl, yea.

[And to twist the knife harder — ]

You've got Kira. Fuck him all you want. [A breath] Keep your fucking hands off of Alex.