If you hone something, for example a skill, technique, idea, or product, you carefully develop it over a long period of time so that it is exactly right for your purpose.

Part 1: L

L and Colours

Long black hair that frame's her pretty face, large pleasant eyes that are almost always filled with kindness and love, a slender frame, a soft cream complexion and a sweet demeanour. This is Noelle, young mother and artist extraordinaire.

A small boy tugs at the hem of her ripped jeans, smiling at his mother and blinking his dark eyes lazily from his spot on the floor, having crawled towards the young painter from his toy mat. Noelle coos and lifts the young Lawliet onto the counter top, smiling and ruffling the boy's hair affectionately. He reaches to dip a finger into the paint she's mixing, looking appreciatively at the gooey blue substance and smearing it between his petite fingers.

Noelle talks to her son nonstop, feeling as though the young boy is really listening, his round face turned towards her own paint smudged one. The youngster continues to play with his mother's paint, swirling the colours with curiosity burning in his face.

Lawliet watches happily as his mother arranges her tools, setting out fine paintbrushes and preparing her canvas.

Noelle watches her son playing with the paint, unfolding the legs of her easel, and laughs lightly. "Say, Lawliet, dear, will you help Mum mix the paint?"

Lawliet puts his small thumb between his pale lips and watches his mother, swirling the paint around in its can with the other hand and nods, waiting for Noelle to explain more fully, part of the meaning still being somewhat obscure to the toddler. His mother plucks him off the counter and sets him down on a stool, where he sits with his back against the wall in front of the young girl's work desk. He plucks at the feet of his pyjamas, ignoring the darker blue stains that follow his fingers across the sky blue fabric.

Noelle piles the many sheets of paper that clutter the desk onto the counter and lays out a large mixing tray that holds the three primary colours, still talking to her son and beginning to streak her canvas with colours. Lawliet laughs, a one syllable noise that makes his mother's smile widen, before beginning to smear the paint across the tray as his mother works on her own painting, satisfied that her son will be entertained with the finger paint she'd given him.

The young genius experiments with the shining reds, yellows, and blues; making an array of different secondary colours and moving on from there, one thumb still poised between his lips. Lawliet then begins to scrawl out shapes on the tray, mouthing the words for what he is drawing.

"Square. Puppy. Mummy." His pronunciation is slurred by a young and inexperienced tongue, though the attempt is gallant for someone so young, and his paintings are certainly lack lustre, but he is very proud of them, as most children are when they create something on their own. "See I done, Mum?" He holds up his colourful hands and beckons Noelle, who is stuck in deep concentration, mumbling to herself now while she paints and becoming feverishly absorbed in her hobby.

Lawliet watches his mother, his attention no longer being held by the array of paint on his tray. Noelle's slim hands drop a dark paint brush onto a paper towel sitting on the counter and she brushes her hair into a ponytail before moving over to her waiting son.

"Let's see what you've got." Noelle smiles; picking up the tray with her thumb and forefinger so as to avoid the paint coating its plastic surface, an action she often repeats when painting. Round black eyes watch curiously, anticipating Noelle's critique. The young woman nods and hums, still smiling at her son with shining eyes. "I love the many different colours you've used Mr. Lawliet. Yes indeed... they create a glorious affect. And I like this square right here..." She points to a somewhat lopsided interpretation of a square, looking impressed. "It completes the picture beautifully. The contrast between orange and purple in this corner balances it all nicely as well... all in all; I think you have a masterful piece of work here!"

Lawliet giggles and claps before pulling the tray out of his mother's hands and pointing to it happily. "Glorious!" he chimes, (a word that sounds more like "Gworous") before pointing to the wiggly square. "Madderpol!" His small hands move to the mess of colours in the corner and he repeats what his mother had said, "Bawance!" The young L then climbs onto the table and into his mother's arms, content with her rave review, although, admittedly, he hadn't quite understood everything his mother had said; her voice was enough to convince him that she was happy. As L tucks his small chin into his mother's soft hair, the faint creek of a door reverberates through the basement, signalling the arrival of Noelle's boyfriend and Lawliet's father, Dale.

Noelle hugs her son before opening the door that leads to a set of concrete stairs and bringing Lawliet with her, listening to him repeat what she had said about his painting, obviously very pleased.

"How about you go play with Daddy for a while, Lawliet?" Noelle asks the small boy in her arms, untangling his fingers from her ebony hair and nodding at him. As much as she would love to talk more with her son, she knows that the boy's father wouldn't be home very much in the next week and would want to spend as much time with his son as he could before he left.

The young man's face splits when he sees Lawliet and Noelle emerge from the basement and he promptly takes the child out of Noelle's arms, beaming at his son. Dale is a tall man with hair almost as dark as Noelle's, much paler skin and a wide smile. He works as a legal consultant, trying to make a decent living for his family. The chocolate brown coat he wears is ragged and old and his hair is messy, poking out at odd ends, but, despite his appearance, he is a very intellectual man with a good reputation as a newly graduated tax lawyer.

Lawliet proceeds to decorate Dale's plain coat with many colourful finger prints as he wraps his small arms around his father's neck, still repeating some of his mother's words.

"Madderpol! Bawance!" His small voice is so filled with pride and joy that Dale's grin widens, even though he is unsure about what his son could possibly be talking about.

Noelle, her dark hair glistening in the well light living room, pecks Dale on the cheek before telling him animatedly about Lawliet's painting escapades while the boy joins in happily with mentions of contrast and other words his mother had used in describing his picture.

Dale hums and raises his eyebrows at his son when Noelle turns and opens the white washed door that leads into the basement before heading down the stairs and closing it behind her. Lawliet hums back at his father, interlacing his fingers with Dale's dark hair as the young man begins to walk into the kitchen.

"How about a snack?" He asks in a soft voice, setting Lawliet into a chair at the kitchen table, his black, feathery hair the only thing visible over its dark wooden surface. Dale opens the mini fridge and pulls out a box of ruby red strawberries, smiling at his son's exclamation of "Oh, bewies!" as he cuts them into pieces, the reflection of his dark eyes flashing in the gleam of the small knife.

Lawliet holds the pieces of the strawberries in his small fingers, popping them into his mouth sporadically as his father talks to him about his business trip to Bath.

The young L's mind is currently focused on nothing but the soothing rhythm of his father's words and the fresh taste of strawberry that he would always favour, his large dark eyes trying to peek at Dale over the tabletop.

When he has eaten every piece of strawberry that his small fingers can find on the smooth wood surface of the table, they turn to another activity: plucking at the feet of his footie pyjamas, where the dark blue paint he had smeared on them before has dried into a crust, clinging to the strands of fabric that make up the outfits exterior. Small flakes of the dried paint fall to the tiled kitchen floor, pooling around the future detective's chair.

When Noelle comes up from the basement minutes later with her painting smock removed and her hands washed, she has changed into a simple black dress and twisted her dark hair into a knot behind her head. Dale pulls her out a chair next to Lawliet while the young boy reaches his arms out to his mother. The two parents exchange numerous warm words and Noelle strokes her son's thin hair while he threads his fingers into her own black locks, listening to the conversation between the two most substantial people in his life.

A chiming melody rings through the small house and Dale moves away from the counter, where he had been leaning casually, and makes his way towards the front entrance.

When Dale returns, a high but soft voice joins that of Lawliet's mother's cooing one and the young boy turns to see a teenager with colourful braces and frizzy red hair walking in next to his father, smiling at him and greeting his mother politely. This girl had watched Lawliet many times when his parents had gone out, and he recognizes her as "Babby" though the girl's name is really Gabby, she accepts L's version with a smile and a giggle. She is the daughter of the people who live next door, a kind couple with three children and two dogs who often visit for dinner. Gabby is clumsy and often forgetful, but L enjoys spending time with her and his parents trust her immensely.

Noelle hands Lawliet over to Gabby, who greets him enthusiastically, and gives her a piece of sunshine yellow paper with a scribbled phone number. "This is the restaurant's number, and my cell is on the fridge as always. He hasn't had dinner yet, but it's already prepared in the fridge."

Gabby nods and tries to stop Lawliet from weaving his fingers into her hair, something he does often when being picked up. She smiles at him and moves him onto her other arm, shifting her body weight.

"Okay, well, if there is anything you need, Gabby, don't hesitate to call me." Noelle leans in and kisses her son on the forehead, ruffles the light feathering of hair on his head and lets Dale link his arm with hers. The two proceed to the door, on their way to a restaurant that they visit every time Dale comes home from a business trip, and this time is no different. It is routine for them, and they don't need to remind each other about the outing, it is a fixed part of their lifestyle.

Gabby follows them to the doorway, Lawliet still sitting in her freckled arms, and listens with a kind smile as Noelle reviews all the instructions that Gabby had heard numerous times. She is, of course, an experienced baby sitter. Dale leads Noelle out the door, the women he plans to marry. In fact, he plans to propose this evening at the restaurant. He has already spoken with the staff, which the couple has become quite close to as the place is a favourite of theirs, and finally managed to buy the ring he has wanted for so long. He waves to his son, his smile wider than ever, happy to be a family and imagining the pride that would come with calling Noelle his wife.

And Lawliet smiles back at him and coos "Bye, bye, dada."