Entry #B-5: "Broad" [An Inn in Violet City, Video]
[L's pokegear flickers on. Judging from the height and position, it is on a bookshelf in a room at a well-furnished and comfortable-looking inn. A television is well within view of the camera feed, and the room is empty save for L's Haunter Slightly
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what he does believe is that he's severely insecure, immature, rude, but admittedly clever. ]
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Well, you are the doctor. I suppose you must be right. Flawless deduction, really.
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I see your education is not going to waste, at any rate. Many youth in this era would not recognize such a feat. [ Sarcasm? From bitter cannibalistic old men? It's more likely than you think. ]
I must admit, Mr. Ryuzaki, I am glad to be able to see your true face. [ He pauses for a moment, bringing a hand to his chin. ] Though if that face you showed to me earlier was not the real you, I have perfect reason to suspect that the name you have given me is not the true one either.
[ ... But, really, this kid seemed like a compulsive liar. Not unlike the ones he's encountered before, really. ]
Though, I admit, it is much more clever than 'John Doe'.
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It was only a matter of time before you saw my face. My Haunter is an aspiring film director and I am his long-suffering muse.
[He tilts his head, peering intently at the screen.]
Anything else you're calling out as false? The skin I'm wearing, perhaps? How about my hair or my teeth? Because those are just logical inferences, since I'm not in fact the model in the stock photo that only a really gullible person would accept at face value, anyway.
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[ lol he's a little technically retarded. ]
Ah, if your skin is false, I must say it appears rather real. As do your teeth, hair, and even your nose. [ Who's your surgeon? ]
However, I would not doubt such things if I had not already been deceived. [ suck it. ]
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[Like the one you just ogled with your creepy peepers Mr. Lecter!]
That'll teach me to cry wolf. Simply knowing that you've lost your confidence in my honesty is enough to force me to reevaluate my recreational taunting of the computer generation's predecessors.
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Ah, is that what your generation is called? I must admit, it doesn't surprise me; during my brief time as a curator, I encountered many computers inside a museum of ancient paintings and artifacts. They really have taken off since the '80s. [ It was rather interesting, though; a mix of the future and the past, presented for the present. ]
I do wish you well in your endeavor, Mr. Ryuzaki. A little courtesy goes a long way, and you never know who you might offend.
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It must be a lot to keep track of.
It's kind of you to be concerned, but I never offend anyone I don't mean to, Hannibal.
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Ah, but do you truly know those you offend? Who knows-- perhaps one of your future offenses will be against somebody who is not the most stable in the mind and you will have opened a truly disastrous can of worms.
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I have always wondered what it's like to get that old.
I rather like annelids, actually. I'm sure I can handle any can of worms I happen to stumble across.
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If you say so, Mr. Ryuzaki. My only hope is that it is not too large a can that you are drowned. Figuratively speaking, of course.
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[L has never actually planned to live a long life; his high-risk and high-stress job wouldn't have allowed for it. By surviving to be 24, L had actually outlived his own life expectancy by a few years.]
Drowning in worms? Not until I'm underground and unable to hear them chewing, if I am very lucky.
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[ and so it begins. a little earlier than expected rofl ]
Then I hope you are very lucky, in that case.
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[It's a relatively slick cover, but L's a little unsettled that this Lecter fellow saw past the sarcasm and drew that conclusion. Because while L would not call himself suicidal... there is a certain recklessness to him at times. One that could easily look that way to someone who was, in fact, looking. He is careful to keep his expression blank and neutral.]
What a jolly conversation this is turning out to be. What about you? Given the choice between drowning and burning to death, which would you choose? Or are you more of a gun-to-the-temple sort? Gun-to-the-mouth? A good old-fashioned asphyxiation via a noose made out of a belt that fit you before your crushing depression made you lose weight?
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