It's the morning after the visit from B, about thirty-six hours after he lost consciousness in one of the kitchens, and L is still in bed.

At the moment, he is awake, sipping a cup of tea, trying to think past his fever. A few books (Du côté de chez Swann and Gravity's Rainbow) sit neglected on the nightstand.

There is a knock at the door.

[[ ( Read more... )

L lies in bed, listless, half-asleep, with aches, chills, and a bad headache ( Read more... )

It's late at night. L unlocks the door of his room, trailed by Misa, who is wearing a long, old-fashioned nightgown.

[[Thread is private to firm_detective and misamisal; it continues from here.]]

L sits in his room, one hand holding open a copy of Mann's Zauberberg, the other clutching the plastic snack cup of strawberry pudding which he is lazily consuming between pages. His laptop idles in the background, playing Gould's early recording of The Goldberg Variations.He is becoming amused with the parallels between his own situation and that ( Read more... )

[[This thread is private to firm-detective, commeo, and misamisal.]]

The bedroom looks mostly as it usually does, with one alteration: L is alone in it, but he is not using either of the computers. The Powerbook is closed and charging next to the desktop computer. A feminine-looking bag is on the floor next to the nightstand near the entrance, but misamisal is not around at the moment ( Read more... )

Ordinarily, if I neglect to make my personal notes for a week or so, it's because the week has been uneventful. I only wish I could say that was the case this time.

To begin with, Pink-san was killed by B the very night I warned him against it, though it took us several days to discover the body. He was smothered, probably after being drugged. Cuts ( Read more... )

About a week ago, I found Pink-san sobbing in a hallway. It came out through the conversation that his Bs were missing and that it was affecting his sanity. Even insofar as I cannot imagine relying on another person as much as that, his behavior was disconcerting, and I found myself worried for him. I've kept my eyes open for him, and for Beyond, ( Read more... )

Several days ago, Mihael visited my room to tell me that Light is missing. No -- he visited to look for him, actually, thinking I might have taken him into custody again.

Since then, if I am unoccupied (in spite of Misa, I am still often less occupied than I would like to be), my mind trips along a drumbeat: where is he where is he where is he ( Read more... )

I learned a lot of things as a child, but one that was drilled into me the most intensively was this:

Move, move, move.
Inertia is how you fail.
Inertia is how you die.

So, for many years (a good deal of my childhood, and all of my adult life), I've been on the move... a headlong rush from city to city, room to room, running from things I can't see ( Read more... )

Since we have last seen the bedroom, things have changed a little. The most noticeable difference is that the sofa, which faced away from the foot of the bed, and had a small coffee table in front of it, has been rotated. It is now against the wall, facing the foot of the bed, with the table in front of it. An Apple Powerbook computer, plugged in ( Read more... )