hey linden i have my first batch of white chocolate macadamia macarons chilling rn u wanna come by and try these while im making the blue raspberry ones for me
[For Linden, it probably feels like the text comes out of nowhere. For Rich... he's been thinking about their half decent conversation for days, long enough that he finds he can't just call it a fluke. He... gentuinely does want to try to understand Linden a bit better, and maybe sugar is a way to actually manage as much.]
yeah uh at my place i mean its either that or i eat all of these myself so i mean guess it depends if you want a chance for a decent cookie or if you just want to see me get fat
[A bit of time, before L answers. The impression is certainly that he's giving this some real thought.]
I have no particular investment in the dimensions of your body. That particular scenario is neither appealing or repulsive to me.
A decent cookie is appealing, however. I will arrive in ten minutes and remove my shoes at the door. Unless you have a thing about bare feet, in which case I will leave them on.
I look forward to perusing the official guest rulebook and discussing how I fit in relative to Jeremy's pornography preferences more when I arrive.
[L has a very specific sense of humor with very narrow constraints.
And he is prompt. To the second. Being able to teleport has its advantages.
He also doesn't knock, on account of having been expected, and the door even appears to be ajar. He pulls it open, kicking off his boots; when his bare feet can breathe a bit, he always feels more at ease.
He glances around for Rich. He's half apprehensive and half anticipating, because the smell of fragrant baked goods is a familiar and promising thing to the sweet-toothed detective.]
[Whatever his sense of humour, it works for Rich this time around. He snorts seeing the message, so formal despite talking about something so gross, and then just goes back to puttering around the kitchen without really answering.
He hears the door open and turns to see L kicking off his shoes. The baked goods, as promised, are sitting on a plate right on the island, while Rich seems to be mixing a bright blue batch of batter in the meantime.]
[L's answering stare is hollow, somewhat glazed, a touch confused.]
You doubted that I would?
[His dark eyes flick momentarily to the island where the macarons are sitting, as if to double-check that all is as it was promised and nothing appears to be dangerous or amiss. It's actually nothing personal; he always approaches situations as though they were designed to put him at ease and lull him into a state of gentle, stupid vulnerability. The result is a constant, guarded, and paranoid status quo that rarely relaxes.]
I teleported here. It's not like anyone could ambush instantaneous travel.
I didn't exactly doubt... maybe just thought you wouldn't be so fast, that's all.
[He didn't think L would be that excited about hanging out with him, though that obviously might have changed with the inclusion of sweets. Hopefully, Rich hasn't made a mistake in offering this. He does want to give Myr a chance to remedy things here, and he doesn't know if this is getting too involved. L doesn't trust him, and the feeling is mutual for Rich...
But he tries to put those worries aside, just waving for L to sit down.]
Were you, uh, expecting an ambush while coming here?
[Sweets are definitely a motivator... but one of many perplexing truths about L is that it takes an astonishing amount for him to actually dislike someone enough to avoid them. There's the near-monolith of people who have not distinguished themselves in his cold dark eyes, and then the handful who have. Whether it's positively or negatively, it helps them stand out from a sea of sameness, and at this point? Just the fact that he and Rich have had repeated interactions, regardless of the tone, is enough to give the encounter a sort of comforting familiarity.
L thinks the same about Myr. He also thinks the same about the man who just happened to benefit tremendously from isolating and grooming him, the SQUIP, and his homeworld murderer. The same stroke paints them, if only because L lacks for different brushes to give his interactions and impressions a little more nuance.]
Certainly not...
[He's probably not trying to make it sound as condescending as it does, which is probably why he speaks more quickly to clarify.]
As I said, you can't ambush someone who is teleporting.
[And around they go. L teleported because he always expects an ambush, but because he teleported, he knew that he could reasonably not have to worry about a successful one.]
The macarons are over here, then?
[He cranes his neck to peer around the dragon toward the plate of pale-colored treats.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text, just in time for Modranicht
hey lindeni have my first batch of white chocolate macadamia macarons chilling rn
u wanna come by and try these while im making the blue raspberry ones for me
[For Linden, it probably feels like the text comes out of nowhere. For Rich... he's been thinking about their half decent conversation for days, long enough that he finds he can't just call it a fluke. He... gentuinely does want to try to understand Linden a bit better, and maybe sugar is a way to actually manage as much.]
<LindenTailor>
But there are macarons. L takes the call, canting his head as he peers down at his watch. Very deliberately he types a response.]
You want me to come over to eat macarons?
[Just so he understands rightly.]
no subject
yeah uhat my place
i mean its either that or i eat all of these myself
so i mean guess it depends if you want a chance for a decent cookie or if you just want to see me get fat
no subject
I have no particular investment in the dimensions of your body. That particular scenario is neither appealing or repulsive to me.
A decent cookie is appealing, however. I will arrive in ten minutes and remove my shoes at the door. Unless you have a thing about bare feet, in which case I will leave them on.
no subject
well that puts you above most people on jeremy's porn sites
ill see you soon then!
but oh let me check
youre in luck
no rules about footwear or bare feet in the official guest rulebook
[A little joke, just to hopefully lighten the mood a bit and to give Linden a little less anxiety about the situation.]
no subject
[L has a very specific sense of humor with very narrow constraints.
And he is prompt. To the second. Being able to teleport has its advantages.
He also doesn't knock, on account of having been expected, and the door even appears to be ajar. He pulls it open, kicking off his boots; when his bare feet can breathe a bit, he always feels more at ease.
He glances around for Rich. He's half apprehensive and half anticipating, because the smell of fragrant baked goods is a familiar and promising thing to the sweet-toothed detective.]
no subject
He hears the door open and turns to see L kicking off his shoes. The baked goods, as promised, are sitting on a plate right on the island, while Rich seems to be mixing a bright blue batch of batter in the meantime.]
Oh hey! You made it!
no subject
You doubted that I would?
[His dark eyes flick momentarily to the island where the macarons are sitting, as if to double-check that all is as it was promised and nothing appears to be dangerous or amiss. It's actually nothing personal; he always approaches situations as though they were designed to put him at ease and lull him into a state of gentle, stupid vulnerability. The result is a constant, guarded, and paranoid status quo that rarely relaxes.]
I teleported here. It's not like anyone could ambush instantaneous travel.
[A pause. Maybe it's significant; maybe not.]
It's one reason I prefer the mode.
no subject
[He didn't think L would be that excited about hanging out with him, though that obviously might have changed with the inclusion of sweets. Hopefully, Rich hasn't made a mistake in offering this. He does want to give Myr a chance to remedy things here, and he doesn't know if this is getting too involved. L doesn't trust him, and the feeling is mutual for Rich...
But he tries to put those worries aside, just waving for L to sit down.]
Were you, uh, expecting an ambush while coming here?
no subject
L thinks the same about Myr. He also thinks the same about the man who just happened to benefit tremendously from isolating and grooming him, the SQUIP, and his homeworld murderer. The same stroke paints them, if only because L lacks for different brushes to give his interactions and impressions a little more nuance.]
Certainly not...
[He's probably not trying to make it sound as condescending as it does, which is probably why he speaks more quickly to clarify.]
As I said, you can't ambush someone who is teleporting.
[And around they go. L teleported because he always expects an ambush, but because he teleported, he knew that he could reasonably not have to worry about a successful one.]
The macarons are over here, then?
[He cranes his neck to peer around the dragon toward the plate of pale-colored treats.]