[For a moment, the two of them are locked in the world's strangest, most apprehensive and awkward tango. With Connor's hands locked around L's sugar-grasping wrists across the table, a couple other people in the cafeteria can't help but stare, and of course that does nothing to alleviate the discomfort L feels with the situation.
It's still not enough to make him want to eat the egg salad sandwich, however. The very thought of it turns his stomach and makes him gag. He watches the packet of sugar drop onto the sandwich, swallowing the dry, bitter taste in his mouth.
He feels like he's already met Connor in the middle, and then some, just by coming here with him. But on paper, he suppose it isn't really like that. The indignity alone of all this is mortifying, but rather than ending it sooner, by just taking a bite, L is recoiling at the thought.
He reaches down with his free hand, snatching away the sugar and moving it closer to his person as though worried it's going to be snatched back. Satisfied, he reaches down, takes a swift and sickening bite of the disgusting sandwich and forces it down with a generous drink of water, tearing open the sugar packet as what essentially amounts to a chaser.
[Connor can manage a pretty impressive sharp glare when he wants to. And he does it towards one of the tables staring, and they quickly return to their meals (though whilst muttering between themselves).
And that expression quickly relaxes into something pleasant again as L takes a frantic bite of the sandwich. Note to self: next time, the fillings need to change. This is a big ordeal just over a sandwich.]
[It's always an adventure being out in public with someone like L, that's for sure. There was a reason he preferred to spend most of his time cloistered away in hotel rooms in his own world. The curious glances are hastily averted when Connor glances sharply their way, but they're definitely still listening as they mutter.
Something odd happens after L takes a bite of the sandwich, however. Another follows, then another two in rapid succession. It's as if something has broken down and a desperate body has overridden whatever neuroses are clamping down their control on him. It tastes disgusting to him, and the sugar shockingly doesn't help much... but some kind of survival instinct has kicked in.
He gets half of the sandwich down, looking miserable the whole time, and downright green when he's done.
[Though the ultimate result will be beneficial and invigorating, it's exhausted L in the moment. He wilts forward onto his elbows, nudging the plate away from him with his fingertips. It's possible, even likely, that he is full after going so long without eating substantial amounts of actual food.]
I don't even want dessert. Just don't make me finish it.
[He's genuinely worried about losing the half he's already put away, and he worked so hard.]
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It's still not enough to make him want to eat the egg salad sandwich, however. The very thought of it turns his stomach and makes him gag. He watches the packet of sugar drop onto the sandwich, swallowing the dry, bitter taste in his mouth.
He feels like he's already met Connor in the middle, and then some, just by coming here with him. But on paper, he suppose it isn't really like that. The indignity alone of all this is mortifying, but rather than ending it sooner, by just taking a bite, L is recoiling at the thought.
He reaches down with his free hand, snatching away the sugar and moving it closer to his person as though worried it's going to be snatched back. Satisfied, he reaches down, takes a swift and sickening bite of the disgusting sandwich and forces it down with a generous drink of water, tearing open the sugar packet as what essentially amounts to a chaser.
One bite down. Barely.]
no subject
And that expression quickly relaxes into something pleasant again as L takes a frantic bite of the sandwich. Note to self: next time, the fillings need to change. This is a big ordeal just over a sandwich.]
Good. You can do it.
no subject
Something odd happens after L takes a bite of the sandwich, however. Another follows, then another two in rapid succession. It's as if something has broken down and a desperate body has overridden whatever neuroses are clamping down their control on him. It tastes disgusting to him, and the sugar shockingly doesn't help much... but some kind of survival instinct has kicked in.
He gets half of the sandwich down, looking miserable the whole time, and downright green when he's done.
But he did it.]
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See? Now the other half... and then you can have your dessert.
[He knows this is hard for L just from how sick he looks, but he needs some goodness in his body.]
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I don't even want dessert. Just don't make me finish it.
[He's genuinely worried about losing the half he's already put away, and he worked so hard.]