[L listens to words that are not spun into dizzying tapestries of logic and games and tricks. They're straightforward and simple, and he holds onto each one, turning it over like a slippery river stone, sure that he's missing some fossil in each only to realize that it's just a river stone, and always was.
His nod is wary, but accepting, as strange as this pure direct honesty is to him. The fact that Shoyo was able to answer the question so quickly and naturally is actually astonishing to L, who struggles to articulate what he feels, what he wants, what he thinks he can have in a world that's not set up for that to happen without a bitter struggle where someone wins, and someone loses.]
Like we walked together on the ships, when we both first arrived here?
[He thinks of the way Shoyo had fought back violent illness at the sight of the corpses. Surely there was a time when he felt that way around them, too; there must have been a point, back in distant memory, when a sight like that would have made his stomach revolt. It's like trying to remember before learning a first language, that hazy period of innocence.
If Shoyo doesn't want to be innocent, that's his right, isn't it?]
Framing it that way makes my job seem a little less selfish, I suppose.
[L knows in his heart, the way all addicts know, that he's selfish. Unlike someone addicted to a mere substance, however, he has the ability to frame his deeds as noble. On paper, they are. For justice, but it's hollowed him out and turned his eyes glassy all the same.]
So... practically applied, this would come down to not keeping secrets from you, even if I think it would make you happier not to know, or I'm worried about you associating something terrible with me unconsciously?
[He keeps secrets from everyone. It already feels vaguely unmanageable.]
[ lazarus assimilates and shows off his aim: precise. the comment brings him back, to that first day. he'd given the other his black jackals jersey, sees it upon his shoulders in a daydreaming blink of an eye— and wishes to see it again. he owed him chocolate that day, saw his first corpse, and some months later had gotten the aforementioned chocolate lapped right out of his hand. he was a mess after.
he actually chokes back a snort, but the sound doesn't hide the endeared smile that's born from it. it's not condescending, it's enamoured. it's just— his way of expression. it's wonderfully unique, and peculiar. shoyo notices and reaffirms for himself that he doesn't want it any other way, nothing forced to his liking. ]
Exactly. [ he doesn't quite think to say this part. his thumbs brush across bony knuckles, and with his lips spread just enough to convey approval, fondness and equilibrium, he points, and gestures to the man sitting across from him: ] 'Cause that's what I love.
[ like? love? whatever. he's not afraid to say it when he's sure of it. ]
[L's dark grey eyes widen at the word that's been, for most of his life, a painful or forbidden one. It comes with a cost; it comes with something he can't get back once he's given it away, it comes-
Deep breaths, because a lesson L has to learn and truly internalize is that he cannot control what Shoyo feels, nor can he believe that they are here because of something disingenuous like pity or mockery. They're well past the point where L could suspect that Shoyo's expressions of fondness, or more than fondness towards him, are fully sincere.
L's expressions are more effective, he thinks wryly, when his eyes and head are lowered against warm skin and his mouth has something to do besides speak of affection and sweetness.]
I've been in service of the truth for most of my life.
[Though he's only about Shoyo's age, he means that. He'd become a detective when he still had most of his baby teeth.]
It's ugly and disappointing, most of the time. It's difficult to love. In the end... the only reason to love it at all is because it's the only real thing in the whole world. Is... that the reason why?
[He can tell pretty lies. He can be pretty, when he lies. The notion that Shoyo prefers what's real and broken over what he's built to sustain their romance seems so improbable that he must ask, again, just to be certain he's been understood.]
[ shoyo had time to search; he's always been searching for a passion ever since he was young, and had only thought he'd found it when he was at the cusp of his teen years. before that, it was simply chasing a possibility. he'd have to take a bite, taste it and savor it to really know, to really get hooked and say this is it.
he wants the same thing with lazarus. ]
It's great because it's real. And when that's real— I know I won't find it anywhere else. [ plus, there's one more thing: ] You said "most of the time". That's not "all the time".
[One could infer that that makes the instances where it isn't ugly and disappointing and difficult to love, it's more precious for it.
He peers up through the shaggy, dark hair that falls over his face, before brushing it aside, letting Shoyo see him both metaphorically and literally.]
OK... I'll trust you.
[Far too late in coming, it speaks more of L's brokenness than Shoyo's worthiness.
[ there he is. he can see his eyes better, see the honest attempt, the color in them. shoyo's gaze lingers and seems to look at each feature of his to remember. she may be a little too far across the table to brush his hair around further, but there'll be a better time for that. for now, takes what is given with a gentle inhale— then exhales, lips pressed down to the hands he's holding like feathers. ]
Thank you. [ there's . . . something that bites at the back of his mind. he doesn't want to talk about it, but if lazarus found out on his own, it'd— totally defeats the purpose of all this. then he'd be the one in a tight position. after moments of hesitation, a staggering gaze leaving him and a bouncing, anxious leg beneath the table, he comes out with it. ] . . . Listen, um— Something happened, but— I don't want to talk about it right now.
[ his subtle body language cues shows discomfort and avoidance, not shame. it was just something he wasn't prepared to talk about. ]
—Doesn't mean I want to hide it from you, or something. Just not ready to go back to it. That alright with you?
[ it looked like progress to him— progress and possibility. while he does wish to be able to get past it eventually, relief swells in shoyo’s chest just as fast as surprise. lazarus was an astonishing detective—
but he shouldn’t have to think about it now. the implication is what he takes and returns forth. so long as they knew there were things . . . he was fine by that. ]
Hard same. [ he could hardly let go of his hands, wishing to tug them forward and put himself in place of the momentum, but . . . how certain was he that lazarus wouldn’t just fall flat onto one of the dining plates, or table decorations? he has one thing, at least, to buy him time from doing a stupid. he gestures with his eyes, down: ] She’s beautiful, isn’t she?
[ not that picanha wasn’t a beauty before ( rrr?? she goes from beneath the table, with a canine tooth overlapping her lips and making her look so much more expressive in her questioning), but picanha settles for that shortly after with an easy grin set with panting. she’s come close to nudge her snout into l’s shins and feet. ]
[So close and blinding to something true and personal, L is all too glad to glance towards a distraction. Any would do, really, but the fact that this has all been significant and harrowing enough to change Shoyo's omen cannot be ignored forever.]
She is beautiful.
[He's quick to agree, and it's easy, because he's being wholly honest.]
I liked you when we met... and I mistook that for thinking that you should never change. I think I understand better, now; your changes are remarkable, and they are your right.
[He just spent so long believing that anyone he met would be scarred, and ruined for knowing him.]
How do you think you've changed? Is it...
[Are you stronger, are you smarter? If the world has hurt you, do you at least know more about it?]
...I do like her, Shoyo. She suits you, like this.
[ how he's changed? he considers that thoughtfully, and before he could call, picanha is already spinning around to jump into his lap, causing the athlete to scoot back and allow her space. he raises her until her back falls back into his chest, with bent paws, floppy ears, and an irresistibly sweet pant. how has he changed? he's more certain, certainly focused. a little more sure of himself and his capabilities when they breach his area of expertise. how could he put that in words? ]
I think it's the smile.
[ more than that— when shoyo playfully pulls at the floppy canine lips to show off her teeth in a hilariously comedic dog grin, there are teeth. a whole mouth full of them. some longer, sharper, maybe a little more intimidating if she wanted to really show them off. shoyo had fangs, and he'd use them if he had to. otherwise, his heart was probably just this bouncing, energetic, playful thing that wants nothing more than work to pass the time and exercise both muscle and brain. ]
[Without having it all spelled out, the picture speaks a thousand words anyway. L's eyes travel over the various peaks and ridges. His own pale and slightly sad smile answers the revelation.]
Maybe; that could very well be it, now that you mention it.
[He glances at his hand on the table, where it's been resting since Shoyo let go. He realizes something with a start.]
...we should probably get some food, shouldn't we?
[ picanha has become much more ruffable, if shoyo could create new words. her hide and fur invite the spread of his fingers at the gruff ring around her neck, splaying and razzling the canine omen like he would any dog. oh, does that excite her. the tail beats between his legs and she throws her head back with panting delight. it's time to get down now, so she does all the twisting she has to slip away.
his hand is still there, and as shoyo has always told lazarus— he comes back to him. the palm of a warm hand settles on top of bony knuckles and wraps around it like a heated blanket. ]
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no subject
His nod is wary, but accepting, as strange as this pure direct honesty is to him. The fact that Shoyo was able to answer the question so quickly and naturally is actually astonishing to L, who struggles to articulate what he feels, what he wants, what he thinks he can have in a world that's not set up for that to happen without a bitter struggle where someone wins, and someone loses.]
Like we walked together on the ships, when we both first arrived here?
[He thinks of the way Shoyo had fought back violent illness at the sight of the corpses. Surely there was a time when he felt that way around them, too; there must have been a point, back in distant memory, when a sight like that would have made his stomach revolt. It's like trying to remember before learning a first language, that hazy period of innocence.
If Shoyo doesn't want to be innocent, that's his right, isn't it?]
Framing it that way makes my job seem a little less selfish, I suppose.
[L knows in his heart, the way all addicts know, that he's selfish. Unlike someone addicted to a mere substance, however, he has the ability to frame his deeds as noble. On paper, they are. For justice, but it's hollowed him out and turned his eyes glassy all the same.]
So... practically applied, this would come down to not keeping secrets from you, even if I think it would make you happier not to know, or I'm worried about you associating something terrible with me unconsciously?
[He keeps secrets from everyone. It already feels vaguely unmanageable.]
no subject
he actually chokes back a snort, but the sound doesn't hide the endeared smile that's born from it. it's not condescending, it's enamoured. it's just— his way of expression. it's wonderfully unique, and peculiar. shoyo notices and reaffirms for himself that he doesn't want it any other way, nothing forced to his liking. ]
Exactly. [ he doesn't quite think to say this part. his thumbs brush across bony knuckles, and with his lips spread just enough to convey approval, fondness and equilibrium, he points, and gestures to the man sitting across from him: ] 'Cause that's what I love.
[ like? love? whatever. he's not afraid to say it when he's sure of it. ]
no subject
Deep breaths, because a lesson L has to learn and truly internalize is that he cannot control what Shoyo feels, nor can he believe that they are here because of something disingenuous like pity or mockery. They're well past the point where L could suspect that Shoyo's expressions of fondness, or more than fondness towards him, are fully sincere.
L's expressions are more effective, he thinks wryly, when his eyes and head are lowered against warm skin and his mouth has something to do besides speak of affection and sweetness.]
I've been in service of the truth for most of my life.
[Though he's only about Shoyo's age, he means that. He'd become a detective when he still had most of his baby teeth.]
It's ugly and disappointing, most of the time. It's difficult to love. In the end... the only reason to love it at all is because it's the only real thing in the whole world. Is... that the reason why?
[He can tell pretty lies. He can be pretty, when he lies. The notion that Shoyo prefers what's real and broken over what he's built to sustain their romance seems so improbable that he must ask, again, just to be certain he's been understood.]
no subject
he wants the same thing with lazarus. ]
It's great because it's real. And when that's real— I know I won't find it anywhere else. [ plus, there's one more thing: ] You said "most of the time". That's not "all the time".
[ what he means, with complete clarity— ]
Let me see you.
no subject
[One could infer that that makes the instances where it isn't ugly and disappointing and difficult to love, it's more precious for it.
He peers up through the shaggy, dark hair that falls over his face, before brushing it aside, letting Shoyo see him both metaphorically and literally.]
OK... I'll trust you.
[Far too late in coming, it speaks more of L's brokenness than Shoyo's worthiness.
no subject
Thank you. [ there's . . . something that bites at the back of his mind. he doesn't want to talk about it, but if lazarus found out on his own, it'd— totally defeats the purpose of all this. then he'd be the one in a tight position. after moments of hesitation, a staggering gaze leaving him and a bouncing, anxious leg beneath the table, he comes out with it. ] . . . Listen, um— Something happened, but— I don't want to talk about it right now.
[ his subtle body language cues shows discomfort and avoidance, not shame. it was just something he wasn't prepared to talk about. ]
—Doesn't mean I want to hide it from you, or something. Just not ready to go back to it. That alright with you?
no subject
He'll learn, in time; it's sort of the promise that L has made, not nearly as painful now as it will be when he actually has to make good on it.
Thank goodness there's something else to focus on.]
I know a little... of what happened. You don't need to talk about it. I understand.
[He really understands.]
I'm here when you are ready. I'm here if you never are, alright?
no subject
but he shouldn’t have to think about it now. the implication is what he takes and returns forth. so long as they knew there were things . . . he was fine by that. ]
Hard same. [ he could hardly let go of his hands, wishing to tug them forward and put himself in place of the momentum, but . . . how certain was he that lazarus wouldn’t just fall flat onto one of the dining plates, or table decorations? he has one thing, at least, to buy him time from doing a stupid. he gestures with his eyes, down: ] She’s beautiful, isn’t she?
[ not that picanha wasn’t a beauty before ( rrr?? she goes from beneath the table, with a canine tooth overlapping her lips and making her look so much more expressive in her questioning), but picanha settles for that shortly after with an easy grin set with panting. she’s come close to nudge her snout into l’s shins and feet. ]
no subject
She is beautiful.
[He's quick to agree, and it's easy, because he's being wholly honest.]
I liked you when we met... and I mistook that for thinking that you should never change. I think I understand better, now; your changes are remarkable, and they are your right.
[He just spent so long believing that anyone he met would be scarred, and ruined for knowing him.]
How do you think you've changed? Is it...
[Are you stronger, are you smarter? If the world has hurt you, do you at least know more about it?]
...I do like her, Shoyo. She suits you, like this.
no subject
I think it's the smile.
[ more than that— when shoyo playfully pulls at the floppy canine lips to show off her teeth in a hilariously comedic dog grin, there are teeth. a whole mouth full of them. some longer, sharper, maybe a little more intimidating if she wanted to really show them off. shoyo had fangs, and he'd use them if he had to. otherwise, his heart was probably just this bouncing, energetic, playful thing that wants nothing more than work to pass the time and exercise both muscle and brain. ]
no subject
Maybe; that could very well be it, now that you mention it.
[He glances at his hand on the table, where it's been resting since Shoyo let go. He realizes something with a start.]
...we should probably get some food, shouldn't we?
and that's a wrap!🧡
his hand is still there, and as shoyo has always told lazarus— he comes back to him. the palm of a warm hand settles on top of bony knuckles and wraps around it like a heated blanket. ]
Good idea.