Lawliet Sighed, munching lazily into his cheesecake. He shifted uneasily in his chair, licked his lips. Studying the INTERPOL police database always seemed to disappoint him.
"This world...is incompetent in the ways of justice..." The panda-eyed man murmured around his thumg. He gazed uneasily at the computer screen, gauging the sheerly astonishing number of worldwide police and INTERPOL cases dropped or incorrectly judged. He, L, knew that he could correctly solve most of these cases right off the bat without more than a second thought. However, he was only one man, and no single person could possibly find the power to clean up all the impurities of the human race.
He reached for his plate absentmindedly, jabbing at what he found to be empty air with his fork. He blinked, staring incomprehendingly at the plate on the desk. He'd been so deep within his own thoughts that he hadn't realized the cake was gone.
Lawliet surveyed the almost pitch-black room, the computers ambient light the only source of illumination. Pushing himself from the desk chair, he traversed the sparsely furnished room until he reached the small refrigerator. He kneeled from his already hunched position and opened the door, unseen pupils contracting at the sudden flood of extra light. And in that moment, our to his peripheral vision, Lawliet saw something fall onto his balcony.
Ryuk looked out across his the vast, desolate landscape of the shinigami realm, his homeland. He sat atop the jagged rib of some long-dead and extinct giant and watched in mild contempt as his simple-minded comrades gambled their pathetic existences away to nothing.
"This world...is a barren, rotten place." he muttered, only halfway to himself. "How boring it is to live in such a desolate place. Then again, what else is there?"
The death god held his chin in his black-clawed hands. Somewhere, boisterous and strange laughter erupted from one of the shimmering pools that looked down from the world of the shinigami to the world of humans. A meek-looking shinigami by the name of Sen, who was vaguely insect like in appearance, was being jostled and teased by a couple of other death gods.
"What are you up to, Sen?" Asked one.
"Keh keh keh keh keh...why would you want to work so hard...? No need to be so...diligent. Keh keh keh..." sneered another one, cackling uproariously.
Sen shook his head furiously. "It's not what you think...!"
Ryuk turned his head from the commotion, then got a wonderfully creative idea. Grinning even wider than his normal expression, he withdrew a leather-bound black notebook from the case on his hip and began to eagerly scribble on the inside cover with a silver pen.
