Entry tags:

Bunches of people, IDK

[Light spends most of the trip to the hotel feeling quite unapologetically smug. Seventeen years of anonymity, working from the shadows, hiding behind that insignia - that black on white letter - and today it comes down for good. Falls apart at Light's directive, the perfect coming together of a plot. Snap. Just as planned.]

[It isn't until he draws near the hotel and sees his father outside that triumph becomes tainted with irritation. He knows that hotel, knows it well... though he's only been inside once. Life's great turning points, they never fade. And he can remember pulling into the parking lot and walking the halls, comparing the number in his mind to the numbers on the elevator panel. Penthouse floor. A fateful meeting; the first time he saw Ryuzaki's face.]

[Light presses his lips together slightly as he parks, and shadows his own steps as he approaches the door. Clever, clever, cruel. Exactly what he'd expect from Ryuzaki, and from himself.]

[He drops his car keys into his pocket as he steps up to his father.]

Ah. Are the others already inside?
Entry tags:

L, Wammy

[L keeps his head down, with his cheek pressed against the edge of his knee, looking almost as if he's sleeping. Which, of course, he isn't. He's wide awake, in fact, and going over the last conversation he had with Light... again.]

[And it occurs to him at some point that this is all he ever does when he has a free moment, combing over conversations, searching for a kernel of guilt or innocence. Not that there ever is any. Light's too good for that.]

[He listens to the drone of the tv as he thinks, and wonders (not for the first time) if he'd simply made a mistake. Perhaps he did. It's possible, technically, if not statistically likely... or was he only thinking that because it would mean Light isn't guilty?]

[Would he even be able to tell if he wasn't?]

[And there's the doubt. It's alien and uncomfortable, and makes a little knot wrap up in his stomach somewhere, so he buries his face more between his arms and listens to the news switching subjects, sounding somewhat urgent, and footsteps from somewhere behind him.]
Entry tags:

L, Wammy

[As usual he keeps the room dark, curtains drawn and lamps off. The only light comes through the television and the monitors like little silvery spotlights, with L in the middle. He keeps his eyes on the screens, but appears more preoccupied with the spoon he has twisting in his tea, its handle pinched between two fingers.]

[Despite the years of encounters with the most unsavory of criminals, very few had ever left a bad taste in his mouth, and none that had left him subject to doubt. A case, after all, was a case, and although they ranged wildly in classifications and techniques, but in essence they were all the same - a nameless, faceless blot on society being stamped out, eliminated. Perhaps this brand of justice was a little more discriminating than most, but regardless, every target ended up the same way.]

[Even B had only ever recieved the appropriate treatment - no more and no less. In a way it was the best possible punishment for him, to be condemned without favor.]

[L twists the spoon again and it hits the side of the cup with a soft tink, which annoys him, so he drops it with a clatter and rests his hands over his elbows, staring petulantly at the screen directly in front of him. It shows the latter half of a profile with a long list of outstanding accomplishments, each one more impressive than the last. By now he could easily recite them all by memory, each intimate little detail, if he so wanted, and it had all been quite easily found and verified. Sometimes it was amazing how much you could find out about someone with minimal research.]

[Still, it isn't always enough. Simple facts, nameless and faceless, only cover so much. L had never thought about it until now. He presses his lips together and pushes the cup of cold, but still mostly remaining, tea away from him with one finger, and then decides that knowing more than is necessary is entirely too troublesome.]

[(After a moment, he wonders - since when was someone like him bothered by knowing, anyway?)]
Entry tags:

L, Watari

[Between the drawn curtains and the stack of coffee cups off to the side, it should be impossible to tell what time of day, or night, it is. The only reason it isn't is because L has gotten very good at keeping track, and he's even better at making the conversions based on whatever piece of global news he happens to be looking at at the moment. For now, however, it isn't important; it's dark, the only light sources being the tv and the computer monitors, and a glow from one of the penthouse's other rooms somewhere behind him.]

[Lack of coffee aside, he prefers it that way.]

[L sits forward a little as he lets one foot slip off of the chair, and digs one toe into the carpet. Every monitor has something about the Kira case... it's been that way for a while now, and no wonder. Kira's the only criminal left worth paying attention to. Out of necessity, yes, but also out of preference. Kira's true identity is becoming more than just a tricky puzzle.]

[But before the thought can irritate him again, there's a little flare up of noise from the tv off to his side, and L turns to it curiously, almost lazily - and stops. A news report about a situation developing in LA, at--]

[For a few seconds L stares at the footage of a very familiar building engulfed in flames, and before he realizes it he's tapping at the button for the intercom to the other room.]

We have a problem.
Entry tags:

L, Watari

[The penthouse can get quite boring and rather quiet at times, Wammy's found. This is particularly true of times when there are difficult cases to solve, and L's attention is swallowed whole by research and analysis. This case, this Kira, he believes it is called, is definitely among them. Starting small, it had soon grown to greater proportions than... well, than anything they had ever encountered - hundreds of deaths in a handful of days, and a foe who seems to have anticipated every possible response. It was actually rather invigorating, although he did of course feel sorry for the dead.]

[Wammy checks the time and sighs a little. It's about time for a tea break, he decides, so he heads into the kitchen and brews a pot, using the time it takes to boil the water to select a number of pastries.]

[Things were getting even more interesting now, with Mello "back," in a sense. Mello and Near reunited - certainly a combination destined to make sparks fly. And not the pleasant sort of sparks, either. Really, if anyone other than L were heading this merry band, he would be concerned.]

[When the tea is done, he pushes the cart into the living room, where L has set up his work, and draws even with the consoles. As he does, he glances at the screens - news alerts, research, a video feed of that unfortunate young lady friend of Light's, who appeared to be having some sort of disagreement with Matt. He sighs.]

Well, you certainly have a full plate today, L. Fortunately, I have anticipated any stress that may arrive and prepared a counterattack in the form of tea and cake.
Entry tags:

[L, Watari]

[Wammy arrives a day late, after a rather distressing day of waiting in a hotel room for the fog to clear over the airport. Even so, he feels quite lively as he makes his way through the hotel and into the penthouse apartment, where L will be waiting... and probably dangerously low on cake. To address this inevitability, Wammy happens to be carrying a box of cake, which he purchased on the way to the hotel.]

[He's suffering a bit of jet lag, but it isn't anything intolerable. He's also brought along a number of records regarding Mello's behavior while at the House, and print-ups of various things jotted down or written up by Near... and information on a number of the higher scoring children there as well, in case L has thought to consider appointing a new second. None of them are very promising, he has to admit - or, well, perhaps that is too harsh. They are promising enough for the outside world, but sadly disappointing if one were to think in terms of succession.]

[Not that this is terribly surprising. If he thinks about it, which he does incessantly, it's exactly to be expected. Four generations of children, and only four viable successors had been produced - the first two, neither of which worked out, and the most recent two, one of which was now a suspect in a killing spree. It is quite sad, really, for everyone.]

[Wammy tips the bellboy just outside the door and sends the young man away before he opens the door. Inside, Wammy is greeted by a familiar sight - L, surrounded by his monitors and empty coffee cups. Looking every bit as pale, every bit as thin, every bit as immune to the natural requirements for sleep, as he always did.]

Well then, you haven't changed at all!

[Wammy pushes his luggage inside, and sets the cake down on a nearby table.]
Entry tags:

Watari, Roger

[It's been quite a long time since Wammy has been in Winchester. Generally, he hasn't got the time, flying around the world with L as he tends to do. However, there's always something quietly exciting about returning... and always something terribly nostalgic. Here is where he held L's hand 22 years ago, just outside the gate to what was once Wammy's personal abode. Here is where he stood the day he opened the doors to Wammy's House. And here, where he stood when he turned a set of keys over to Roger and left that world behind to follow L's destiny, and his will.]

[Well, it's not like he hasn't been back since, but even so!]

[He unlocks the gate, and it's like twenty years ago again. He moves through the landscaped lawn - through the misty rain, avoiding puddles - to the ornately carved front door. And when he pushes the doors open, he is flooded with golden lamplight and the laughter of children. In the main hall, he catches a glimpse of Near's pale form, hunched over his white puzzle pieces, and he greets a few of the children before reaching Roger's office.]

[It was his office, once, before his responsibilities shifted from the House to a series of hotels. In a way, he misses this place, the way children yearn for their first homes long after they've left it behind.]

[With a little smile, he pushes the doors open.]
Entry tags:

L, Wammy

[It isn't long before he's gathered as much information about the latest death as he can. Marshall Heuse, hiding out in London after being involved in a number of armed robberies in his native France, collapses shortly after a successful heist and is later reported dead from cardiac arrest. A few details of his previous record, his background, and the circumstances of his current whereabouts follow. All in all, not terribly illuminating.]

[L moves the toes of one foot over the other, and reads over the report again, letting his thoughts run in the back of his mind. The deaths were accelerating, spiraling outward from their central point in the city, and it seemed... impossible. Or at least very difficult to pull off, especially since there was no trace of any kind of foul play. The London police weren't even sure what to do about it just yet. If it weren't for the frequency and location, nothing would even seem amiss.]

[Which meant...]

...An amateur?

[L tips his head and bites down on his thumbnail. No, that didn't seem quite right. The sophisticated method implied that the person was well experienced, but there was something erratic and obvious about the execution that didn't feel right. So did they know what they were doing, or not? (Well of course they did. Wasn't this part of the training?)]

[Questions without answers. And a sense of something worse ahead. If nothing else, he could trust his intuition.]

[Holding the cup carefully with only two fingers, L drains the rest of his coffee and forces himself to think objectively.]
Entry tags:

L, Wammy

[Normally, sitting in the dim light of the hotel room, surrounded by only the glow of the monitors and tv and a single ineffective lamp in the corner of the room would be a rather rote experience. Not mind-numbing, exactly, but not the most exciting of times. There was a certain air of languor that would sometimes overtake him while he worked - not because of the quality, but the process, the sharpness of focus dissolving everything into a haze.]

[And then there were times when the room would buzz with excitement, much like it did now, as L looked over the records sent in by Roger. And what impressive records they were, too. Every conceivable form of academic achievement could be found, all sorts of awards and leadership positions... it was fascinating, to say the least.]

[Light never did disappoint, it seemed.]

[L presses his fingers against the edge of the desk as he reads through, leaning far enough forward so that his nose was almost in danger of hitting the monitor. Even as thrilled as he was by this mine of information, he couldn't help but feel a little flicker of annoyance at it. Or maybe it was disappointment. If things had been different...]

[He wiggles his toes against the edge of the chair and strikes the keyboard with his little finger, moving to the next page.]
Entry tags:

L, Watari

[Surrounded by the glow of computer screens, with the curtains drawn tightly closed, it was easy to lose track of time. The only signals of the hours passing were the ongoing drone of the news report from the tv, and the little ticking numbers in the corner of the surveillance feed from Asakawa's apartment, and the remains of coffee cups - stacked carefully, three high, with the leftover dregs already room temperature.]

[L rests his chin on his knees and stares at the screens with unwavering focus. His intuition had told him that the Kusama case would soon be over, and Light apparently agreed, but there was something definitively incomplete about the events thus far, which made solving the case so soon feel hasty somehow. It was an impression he couldn't shake off, no matter how many times he went over the evidence in his head.]

[Like he was doing now, in fact, in the back of his mind - running over the numbers, the journal entries. Looking for threads. But once Light went on the news, it was sure to provoke the killer (killers... it wasn't just Asakawa. It couldn't be.) into action, which in all likelihood meant a speedy resolution. If everything went well.]

[He anticipated that it would, but there was a 20% chance of things going wrong. Okay, so the number was a little higher than he'd implied to Light, but still. It wasn't too bad. And Light could handle himself, if anyone could.]

[L curls his toes over the edge of the seat and types something into one of the consoles, which then fussily spits data back at him. He sits perfectly still as he reads it over.]
Entry tags:

Light, L, Watari

[Light leans against the back wall of the elevator, watching the numbers above the doorway climb. 1, then 2, then 3... at the top floor, Ryuzaki would be waiting, probably with cake and tea, which is why Light picked up sandwiches before he headed for the hotel. If he intends to spend an evening in Ryuzaki's presence, he really needs to bring decent food along.]

[The elevator reaches the penthouse level, and Light pushes his back away from the wall, and steps into the corridor - indistinct and completely average, at least for a rather expensive hotel Really, it's difficult not to wonder sometimes where all of the money Ryuzaki throws around on limos and penthouse suites comes from. It doesn't seem likely that even Erald Coil's fees could cover this much extravagance. ...assuming Ryuzaki is Erald Coil, of course.]

[Which he is.]

[Light flexes his fingers in his pocket as he reaches the penthouse door. For some reason, he keeps feeling leather at his fingertips.]

[He presses the doorbell.]
Entry tags:

L, Watari

[Enters L's room, pushing a cart of various cakes and a pot of tea]

[stops the cart next to L and glances around the room, with its myriad consoles - searches, larceny research, feeds of the apartment inhabited by the primary suspect in the Kusama case, and of course the familiar sight of a window containing what could only be the most recent conversations between L and his non-virtuous friend. The darkness is silver with the light of computer screens, and the muted television running 24 hour news coverage.]

Given the stresses of the evening, I thought you might appreciate a snack.
Entry tags:

(no subject)

[sitting on the edge of a fellow officer's desk] ...she signed the paper! Just like that. Ah, and she gave me her phone number!

[pause]

Oi, well, technically she gave it to Light-kun, but he almost turned it down, and then I said to take it and so we have it.

[pause]

NOT THAT I WOULD CALL HER. That would be unprofessional, unless there was a reason to call her.