I.
[Morning]
[Throughout the house, a bit of a racket can be heard from the master bedroom. A man, slipping into consciousness, practices harsh and hollow laughter.]
Eeee heee heee heee heeee haaaa haaa HAAAAA!
- No, no, no, no. That was all wrong... a squeaky beginning and an awkward finish. B is going to have to laugh better than that when he surpasses E-
[before the "L" sound can fall into place, though, a disturbance has finally settled in his mind. Namely, someone is breathing on his neck.
He throws off the covers immediately, rolling over and having a look at this bed intruder. It half registers that this is not the bed that he fell asleep in, but the woman next to him is far more disturbing. Who is she? But that's not even the biggest hole. He is clearly gazing down on the woman's face, and yet, a name and a lifespan are not visible. Dead? Dead.... but breathing? And what kind of woman would crawl into his bed just to die? It's absurd. He stares at her a moment, and then... swings a kick at the bed. The woman jolts awake and immediately smiles.]
Oh, darling! Thank you for waking me up. Silly me, I must have overslept! I'll go and make your breakfast now, don't worry!
[the drone rises from the other side of the bed as he hops back on top of it and grabs her arm]
No, wait!
Yes dear.
[he tilts his head at an uncomfortable looking angle as he stares deeply into her face. Still nothing. He narrows his eyes, reaches out, and gives her nose a hard tug. She frowns, but otherwise gives very little reaction to having her nose tugged. She stands there looking impatient.]
Dow, hoddey, dats do bey doo behabe. De eggs don't dake dat long.
[he pulls on her cheeks instead, but she says no more. He is baffled. Her face is real... and what's this nonsense she's spouting? He lets go of her arm and lets her walk into the kitchen as he slowly raises his thumb to his mouth to bite the nail and watch her movements. He is tempted to follow her out of the room, but the fact that this isn't where he woke up is nagging him now that she's out of sight. He turns on the lights, and his eyes widen.
This is a suburban residence. That, he could already tell before the lights were on. However, now that they are on, the mystery deepens. There are stuffed animals in this room - identical to the ones he used as an accessory to his murder of a female bank teller named Backyard Bottomslash. Could this, perhaps, be a message?
A message from who? He had only been loosely involved with other people, and certainly hadn't made any enemies. Naomi Misora did not seem this bold OR this creative, and if L had caught him, he would not be in a house, he would be in prison. It could be a plan of this strange woman's design, but what would be the point in that?
But before he dwells on that thought, another piece of the puzzle presents itself. It is a small, but familiar flash of red in his peripheral vision. He walks over to the wall and examines the photograph.
It depicts a family that seems to include himself as the head. He obviously cannot see his name and lifespan, so this is - while admittedly creepy - not what had drawn his attention. Only one of the figures in this family had one. A young blond boy ... Gash Bell. Lifespan, ????
But how could it be ???? All of these significant details, and none of them made any sense yet.
After a pause to mull over hypotheses, none of which he can find any basis for (after all, he could never scientifically explain what his eyes could do, in the first place), he continues to investigate, and finds his makeup in the master bedroom. Why, it's almost as if he had made himself at home. He puts the makeup on, and then removes the photos from their walls and other resting places. He shoves them inside a drawer for now - a force of habit. At the Wammy House, it was not normal to have photos everywhere. And it certainly wasn't L-like.
That chore completed for this bedroom, he finally emerges to the scents of the drone wife who is indeed making him eggs. He pauses, then experimentally calls out.]
While you're at it, maybe you could make some pancakes too...?
Yes dear!
[She immediately gets out pancake supplies. B stares.
... Could she be some sort of robot? If this was anime, that would be the quickest explanation to her lack of life and eagerness to please. But he is confident that no country had advanced that far yet, and that even if they had, beautiful robot women would surely pay him no attention.
Well, she could do what she wished for now. He keeps one eye on her as he explores the rest of the house. It is extremely orderly to the point of seeming not lived in. Wonder if the others in the photos are here? He takes another look at a framed picture on a wall.
It depicts him throwing a frisbee to a blue-and-rainbow pegasus. He finally wonders if he's still dreaming, or perhaps drugged.]
. . . . .
[afternoon]
[After meeting his fake family, he's ... still not entirely convinced that this isn't a long dream. Still, his fervent examination of the house has extended itself to a full exploration of the town. To anyone who had met a certain great detective in person, he might look a bit familiar. To anyone else, he probably just looks crazy. He's got a notebook out that he's scribbling notes and even drawings in. He's getting into places that he doesn't belong, examining trash cans, other people's windows, maybe even crawling under a skirt momentarily. Just passing through, obviously.
Although if he comes across an adult woman with long, black hair, he might suddenly stop what he's doing to hurry and get a look at her face, and then seem a bit irritated and disappointed.]