The sweet taste of copper hinted from my tongue, quickly realizing it must have got in the way of chattering teeth. I curse myself internally in the slip of willpower, but the outside walk from the car to the hotel lobby was enough time for the cold to sink into my bones and stay there. A light chuckle breaks my inner dialog, obviously aimed at my same old stubbornness.
Stealing a glance sideways at the elder gentleman I was sharing this ride with, I hadn't noticed the metal door parting open until that final ding. The man excused himself in a few words and began to lead me away.
I wasn't surprised that I was being called upon by the famous L, I knew he was in Japan when I left America on assignment. I was taken back on how quickly he broke through my security camera hack in a much nicer hotel than this one, getting heated at the thought since it takes time to break into a mainframe and rewire the system like I had to.
The smell was the first thing I noticed.
Even before getting the door open, the scent of something sugary filled up my lungs like thick smoke, coating the very things I need to breathe. I had been away for so long I had forgotten about this part. It wasn't like the room stunk, on the contrary everywhere L worked from always smelt like a pastry.
Other than the smell, it was your basic westernized hotel room. White walls, wooden doors, and dark carpets. However, this room was decorated in trolly carts of different sweet treats, cut fruits, and to my surprise bear-shaped cookies. I harvested a chuckle, remembering once many years ago that baggy eye younger man telling me that sweets shouldn't crumble or crunch.
I was shown to my seat, a wooden chair with a leather cushion, facing its twin only a few feet away. Before I could analyze the person in front of me, a silver tray was held out. I knew the deal and pulled out my service gun and my work cell phone, placing each item carefully to be stowed away.
"Personal cell phone as well, please" the man in front of me sounded off, automated like a cake eating robot.
I reached into the inner chest pocket of my coat, pulling out the phone to join the rest.
I observed without making much noise the person in front of me eat cake and slip black coffee in the same grace as a hummingbird, quick flows of movement from fork to mouth or lips to cup. To an outsider unknowing of this man's quirky eating habits might be impressed but I was not. Also, he couldn't help but notice how after all these years he still sat in a chair like a child might if he was about to launch off in some imaginary play.
I always thought that if we ever laid our eyes on each other again in this lifetime, the nostalgia I thought about from time to time might kick in but it didn't. Instead, I craved the satisfaction of balling up my fist and connecting with his face.
I was brought out of reflection when a saucer topped with a delicious looking slice of cake I've ever seen was placed into my hands, thanking Watari for a share of the spoils. I might have dug into it, liking sweet as much as your avenge adult woman but my aggravation wouldn't let me. I waited until he left and placed it on the table beside me.
"L, I hope you didn't have me come here to watch you work..."
"Yes, you're right, forgive me."
He dangled his small cup above his head, holding it between the tips of his thumb and index finger catching the few remaining droplets of what had to be just mostly sugar grains floating in coffee-flavored water. I felt the familiar coating of amusement my still lips.
"Oh, but please call me Ryuzaki for this case."
"Going by Violet Petrillo this time."
Noticing how hard Ryuzaki was staring at my slice of cake just sitting there, I told him to take it.
"Now, about the matter at hand with Naomi Misora and Raye Penber's hotel room-"
"Don't bother asking, it's confidential."
He took a sideways glance towards my direction, licking the residue icing and strawberry off his fingers.
"I was under the impression that the FBI was pulling aid from Japan."
"We're just wrapping everything up on our end."
Ryuzaki slipped his clean fork into his mouth to think, running each said statement and unsaid retorts through his brain, looking for whatever it was about me being in that hotel room that bugged him.
My hand was red and stuck in the cookie jar, I know they watched me pull out belts and search dresser drawers.
"Right now, Kira isn't America's problem; burying twelfth FBI agents is before word of this mess gets out."
"Yes, that would be unpleasant for all of us."
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop my eyes from rolling out of my head, people are dead and he's surely thinking about his title.
"But, to send you Miss. Petrillo, to do a job anyone with half the training you have could complete? No, it doesn't make much sense."
I pulled the sugar bowl in my direction, not caring too much my cup of coffee wasn't as hot as it needed to break down the sugar, plopping three cubes and taking my sweet time stirring to taste.
"Simple," I spoke before taking a slip.
"Most of the field agents chose Spanish as their second language, given that its the 2nd most spoke language in American making a higher demand for it."
Ryuzaki pounded over the train I was trying like hell to lead him down, sitting my drained cup back on its saucer just to be picked up again for his immediate inspection.
"Your lips are a warm shade of red, yet there's nothing left behind."
I was taken aback just little before reminding myself that this was L we were talking about, most likely he hasn't had an interaction with a member of the opposite sex since the last time we worked together.
Shrugging was all I could muster up on the subject at hand, dropping the retort I was in the middle of speaking of as knowing L as I did he wasn't interested in the matter anymore.
"You never wore makeup to work before."
"I was also in my teens the last time we worked together, I've grown up."
Ryuzaki finally sat the cup back on its saucer, mulling things over in silence.
I began to excuse myself, citing paperwork for the rush, when a trolly cart in much need of oil pushed itself in between us like a blockade, leaving me no room to stand up and go.
A rectangular screen the size of a book laid still, probably dead from being wiped clean of everything. I quickly snatched it back from Watari's hands, deciding not to check on the tablet at my hotel for damage.
"Explains the makeup and calmness." Ryuzaki pointed out, tone, and facial expressions unchanged. But, I knew him well enough to understand what he was thinking.
We both know what I was after, its what I've always been after for eleven years.
"Oh, Ryuzaki, don't be mad at me. At least I came in person this time."
Normally, I send a virus to distract my actions, but since I was going to be in Japan anyway...
"Watari, please inform me of the damage."
This time I widen my findings to anything matching my usual keyword.
I bit my lip in anticipation.
I watched the pupil in Ryuzaki's eyes shake out of focus just a bit, taking in the realization of my actions against him. It was the only true telltale sign that he was feeling something extreme or taken off guard.
Our eye contact became the only audible thing in the room, now knowing along those years working separate I had finally won a battle.
"It explains everything, Miss. Petrillo. The makeup, the slopiness of the hotel cameras, all of it."
"You know, L, it's perfectly fine to call me by my real name for now," I kept a smooth face but the heat still threatens to paint my cheeks, forfeiting my lies.
"After all, this is more of a personal matter than official."
Instead, the man picked up a plate of different fruits to plop into his mouth.
"I didn't lie, I'm not here for Kira. I saw an opportunity and took it."
"What do you know, Miss. Petrillo." He asked in the same automatic voice as before, trying to take the human element out of it, but I had no plans on letting him anymore.
"It's rude to ask questions you already know the answer to, L."
"Very well, what are you trying to confirm?"
"Location."
"Anything that could hint to their location will be blacked out. You should know this by now."
"I can if I cross-check it with something."
The world's greatest detective wiggled then buried his exposed toes into his chair cushion.
For the first time in a while, the deep-rooted anger turned to a flicker of pain. I understood what once was between us was long gone, dead and buried, and maybe in a sick inhumane way, L was acting as much as a human he could.
I shivered at the thought.
But, what he was hiding from me was mine too, and I never could stand the thought of letting them walk on earth feeling the same loneliness that once pulled L and me together.
It's lonely to be without a home, a family, even if someone takes you in and becomes your very own Watari.
When I refocused my eyes, it was just me and Ryuzaki. Unsure if he was excused or just could read the room, but Watari was gone.
"I'd rather hear it from you." It felt like a whisper tripping off my lips than a heartfelt request.
Hell, I wasn't completely sure he heard me.
Still, he put his stirring spoon into his mouth, speaking only one word before sucking on the metal.
"No."
That flicker of repressed emotion sparked into a flame, boiling my blood like water.
"They're my children too, Ryuzaki, I don't deserve a 'no'."
It was completely stupid to even think of asking, let alone push the words off my tongue.
"I'm thinking of everyone involved, Violet."
I've never been known as a person who curves her anger, nor as someone to go into outbursts and only one of those things stood true as I took the bottom of my heel to kick the chair out of under him. The room filled with cracking as the piece of furniture tumbled to the floor on its side. The occupant landed gracefully on his bare feet like a cat, which only fueled the chemicals racing in my veins.
"And no," I added, watching Watari walk back in out of the corner of my eye.
"It's not Capoeira, its five years of kickboxing. It helps with the stress, healthier than picking up smoking."
Watari picked up the chair while reminding L about things that happened tonight that I couldn't care less about. I just snatched my things back from by the door and left, knowing the next time I see him it'll be snowing in Hell.