(Untitled)

[firm_detective]

L is browsing the stacks in the eighth-floor library. Row after row of books on ornate, dark wood shelving -- How long have they been here? -- surrounds him, but he can still see the far-away main entrance to the library from where he stands. He wrinkles his nose at the faint musty scent of the crumbling volumes.

[Thread is private to firm_detective and refractings.]

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[refractings]

[There are only so many angles Light can consider, only so many possibilities to worry over. He's stared at his notes and his diagrams for a few days now without progress.

Even Light has his limits, and what he desperately wants right now is not terrified, fevered analysis, but distraction. He has climbed the stairs to the eighth floor, thankfully seeing no one on his way, and when he glances down the hall, it also appears clear. He heads to the library door, not being particularly loud but not bothering to hide his presence either.

It doesn't occur to him to check the library itself. He closes the door behind him and sighs, running a hand over his face.]

[firm_detective]

*When L sees who has entered the vast room, he is a little put out. Unless he has missed a new arrival during his week of intentional leisure, it is one of Light's analogues who, although in the throes of selective amnesia, has nonetheless managed to be tediously argumentative.*

*He clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, then exhales, which comes out as a soft, exasperated sigh. He doubts it can be heard from more than a few yards away, and Light must be -- at least twenty yards away, possibly more.*

*Turning the majority of his attention back to the shelf, he moves down the row, but remains cognizant of Light's location, attuned to any changes in the energy he projects.*

[refractings]

[Light isn't exactly at his most observant, so it's not until L moves that he realizes that there's anyone else in the room at all. Startled, he flinches violently, and it's obvious that his nerves are all but shot. Only after collecting himself does he look back at the room's other occupant.

It's L, the one that reminds Light of the L from his own universe. Upon realizing this, he blinks, and frowns, indecisive. He has been meaning to find this L and speak with him, but he hadn't thought it would happen now.

His own internal monologue irks him. There's no real reason why he can't approach L, after all. Walking quietly but briskly, he covers about half the distance between the two of them before he speaks, pitching his voice so that it will reach the detective.]

Ryuuzaki? Do you have a moment?

[firm_detective]

*L gauges Light's approach as it occurs. There seems to be no anger or urgency in it, so his response is calm, mild.*

*He turns his face to look at Light. He is, himself, all wide dark eyes and a mess of black hair, but his skin is not as pallid as usual: it has been warmed by his recent days at the beach.*

A moment? Yes, Light -- *a falling note; he is tolerating this* -- I suppose I have a moment.

*His voice lacks even the most minute hint of enthusiasm.*

Why?