[L trails after Connor after a few more moments looking at the glass, careful not to disturb a single shard, treating it as a crime scene when there's no real need to. Old habits, and all, and now there is a host of them that will feel incomplete or broken without the SQUIP to inform or direct them.
L is someone who lived with a handler for the majority of his life. He's losing affection, and also a grounding and necessary presence he is crippled without. Dazed, he makes an effort to recenter himself, focus on Connor's question that should not be as difficult as it is as he joins the android outside the Mirror House.]
It's... like I said. I'm going to walk with you.
[A stalling answer, almost certainly not what Connor meant.]
...nothing rash.
[At least, not immediately. He can't even think of where to start in that regard.]
[Connor waits for the real answer without interrupting. It isn't quite satisfactory, and he has a feeling things will only go downhill from here.]
If you're not ready to go home, I have a spare room you can sleep in.
[He doesn't really expect L to take him up on the offer, but it's there regardless. For now though, he'll just walk with him. And think sullenly about how the SQUIP doesn't remember either of them right now. It has no idea what it's left behind.]
I know the SQUIP looked after you, but I'm not sure exactly how. What did it do for you?
[Is L going to be okay? Or is he going to neglect to look after himself without the SQUIP around?]
[He won't. At least, not yet. His own unspoken thoughts are heavy and brooding, every bit as difficult to parse as Connor's.
He glances aside at the question, guarded, trying to guess at Connor's motive. Not an ill one; he doubts the android has it in him to try so transparently to unmask his weaknesses for the purposes of using them against him, but... it's asking him to be vulnerable to speak of such things.]
Regulation. It... regulated me. There was a human in my world who did it before I came here.
[Because, he doesn't say, no human can be so extraordinary in some ways without being equally deficient in others.]
[Connor is still curious, and he doesn't hesitate before inquiring further.]
Can you elaborate? I'm sorry, I've just never met a human who needed regulation.
[Which isn't meant to be an insult, just a clarification on why he's so interested. And it's easier to focus on this than the lingering ache in his chest that the SQUIP left behind.]
[What harm could it do, at this point? Though L always tenses when he's talking about his previous life, reluctant to get into any kind of details that might harm him or those close to him, Connor's had many chances to hurt him, and taken none of them. In spite of everything, Connor still cared for the SQUIP and prioritized its needs.]
You'd agree that humans have different strengths and weaknesses, I'm sure. Optimally... members of every species would be born into the world well-suited to survival. Innovation wouldn't be a priority... only ensuring the survival of the individual, the offspring, the clan.
[He pauses. Connor knows him, has witnessed his ineptitude at caring for himself, the downright childishness he handles his mundane everyday affairs with.]
Life in an organic system isn't optimal, though.
[He's not normal. That's a strangely difficult and even painful thing to say out loud.]
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no subject
L is someone who lived with a handler for the majority of his life. He's losing affection, and also a grounding and necessary presence he is crippled without. Dazed, he makes an effort to recenter himself, focus on Connor's question that should not be as difficult as it is as he joins the android outside the Mirror House.]
It's... like I said. I'm going to walk with you.
[A stalling answer, almost certainly not what Connor meant.]
...nothing rash.
[At least, not immediately. He can't even think of where to start in that regard.]
no subject
If you're not ready to go home, I have a spare room you can sleep in.
[He doesn't really expect L to take him up on the offer, but it's there regardless. For now though, he'll just walk with him. And think sullenly about how the SQUIP doesn't remember either of them right now. It has no idea what it's left behind.]
I know the SQUIP looked after you, but I'm not sure exactly how. What did it do for you?
[Is L going to be okay? Or is he going to neglect to look after himself without the SQUIP around?]
no subject
[He won't. At least, not yet. His own unspoken thoughts are heavy and brooding, every bit as difficult to parse as Connor's.
He glances aside at the question, guarded, trying to guess at Connor's motive. Not an ill one; he doubts the android has it in him to try so transparently to unmask his weaknesses for the purposes of using them against him, but... it's asking him to be vulnerable to speak of such things.]
Regulation. It... regulated me. There was a human in my world who did it before I came here.
[Because, he doesn't say, no human can be so extraordinary in some ways without being equally deficient in others.]
no subject
Can you elaborate? I'm sorry, I've just never met a human who needed regulation.
[Which isn't meant to be an insult, just a clarification on why he's so interested. And it's easier to focus on this than the lingering ache in his chest that the SQUIP left behind.]
no subject
[What harm could it do, at this point? Though L always tenses when he's talking about his previous life, reluctant to get into any kind of details that might harm him or those close to him, Connor's had many chances to hurt him, and taken none of them. In spite of everything, Connor still cared for the SQUIP and prioritized its needs.]
You'd agree that humans have different strengths and weaknesses, I'm sure. Optimally... members of every species would be born into the world well-suited to survival. Innovation wouldn't be a priority... only ensuring the survival of the individual, the offspring, the clan.
[He pauses. Connor knows him, has witnessed his ineptitude at caring for himself, the downright childishness he handles his mundane everyday affairs with.]
Life in an organic system isn't optimal, though.
[He's not normal. That's a strangely difficult and even painful thing to say out loud.]