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2005 - Los Angeles

The pain was subsiding, after taking a hell of a takedown by a trained FBI agent. What does one expect when you hugged her out of nowhere after a hard case like BB's? Surprises, one could guess. L could understand the mind of a serial killer or the workings of a criminal syndicate, but he's dim when it comes to the human touch. And he sure paid the price for that. The attack could be compared to hugging an already hissing kitty. You get the claws.

L was sipping on some coffee on his way back to his hotel, his usual drink being concentrated to the brim with tons of sugar. If one could see his sugar-only diet, that person would wonder whether he's got diabetes or not. Of course, L anticipated this thought and would give a detailed explanation of how the brain uses a lot of calories to prevent such a sugar overdose. Needless to say, the only thing he worries about it his caffeine intake. As L enjoyed the sweet flavor of the scalding liquid, Watari called out to him.

"You feeling better?" He looked at the rearview mirror of the limo, looking at the only thing close to a son.

L rubbed his back, the pain less intense but still raw. "Yes, thank you Watari." They remained silent, as Watari made turns around street corners of downtown Los Angeles, trying to circumvent freeway traffic to get to Hollywood. "Guess I'm still human."

"What was that?"

"I misjudged Naomi Misora's composure today. That resulted in my little incident."

"Indeed." When Watari came up to the stoplight, L gazed through the tinted windows and saw a raven-haired woman, wearing black and having a similar figure to Naomi Misora.

"That woman is interesting, though. I could use her skills in the future, Watari."

"One for your list of trusted associates?"

"Yes. She's quite capable of herself. She's intelligent, quick-thinking, and happens to know capoeria."

"Sounds like you've taking a liking of her, L." Watari tried to hold back any sign of amusement.

When L heard his response, albeit a joke, he thought, yes I do have some liking of her. But such thoughts were against his cold logical mind.

"You could say that," L answered the best he could. He tried to block it out, coming up with reasons not to get involved, and yet the feeling still remained. A sense of longing, perhaps.

The long hours driving the side streets was enough to turn day into night when they got back to their hotel. Their room was perched up at the 18th floor, and it was neat and clean as any five-star would be, at the very least. Hollywood has its sort of old hotels, used for banging instead of sleeping.

L was in his room, standing next to the wide and high window, staring at the bed of lights called Los Angeles, thinking. He typically does his thinking on a case crouched down on a comfortable chair, thumb in his mouth, back hunched, a 40% boost in his deductive qualities included. But on this occasion, it didn't require the chair, the 40% boost. On his mind was something new, a case of heart. The sense of longing.

"Yes, I did take quite a liking of her," he whispered to himself.