He appeared to the world as a star student should. He did utter a single word unless propriety absolutely demanded it. He didn't move. He did nothing that would paint him out of the ordinary. Even as that damn shinigami yelled in his ears. He remained… perfect as he trekked home.
He tried to clear his mind, attempting to tackle the situation logically. However, no matter what he concluded, whatever scenario he conjured, none would lead to any good. He was stuck, trapped, like a starving dog backed into a corner, the catcher's net closing in on him.
Even as he entered his home. Even as his younger sister greeted him, chipper as usual.
Light stayed calm, no inclination of any turmoil save for the crescent-shaped indentions in his palms.
"The identity of the body that had been found in an old, abandoned church just days ago has been released. A Japanese woman, Naomi Misora, was discovered by a party who wishes to remain anonymous." Light paused in his tracks, hovering at the stairs, just out of Sayu's sight as he listened to the broadcast. "It is, as of right now, unclear if it is suicide or murder, though sources are pointing to suicide. It is revealed that Misora is linked to one of the twelve FBI agents who recently di-"
Light calmly continued his trek up the stairs, entering his room and coolly locking the door. It was then and only then did he begin to shake. Even more so as he neared his desk.
This was beginning to be a lot to take in. First, L, if that really was him. Now, this?!
He sat down, grinding his teeth together.
Ryuk floated by him, a finger drawn to his curled lips, in mild curiosity.
Light slammed his body into his desk, ignoring the ache of his stomach and elbows. His fingers curled in his chestnut hair, tugging at his scalp painfully. "DAMMIT!" he growled, cursing loudly, finally offering himself his temperamental outlet. Let loose. Throw his little tantrum. "Dammit, dammitdammitdammit!" With the cameras gone, he was free enough to have that little courtesy.
His little outburst had managed to even startle Ryuk (which wasn't an easy feat, mind you), who stumbled back with widened eyes. "Ah, Light?"
"He got me! Dammit, he got me!"
The shinigami blinked, tilting his gruesome, spiky-haired, head, his lips pursing over his sharp teeth. "Uh… What do yo-"
Light slammed his fists onto the desktop, which silenced the God of Death while knocking a cup of pens over. Some rolled onto the floor with soft clanks. "Damn L!" he continued, as if he hadn't of heard Ryuk. He was humiliated. Utterly humiliated. Not just L, but by that woman. Even in her grave, she was going to be a nuisance! A small one, yes, but still.
He was trapped. Trapped and he couldn't do a damn thing about it!
Oh-ho-ho… That L. He was crafty. A sneaky, crafty son of a bitch. Everything about that meeting was a trap!
The painfully obvious alias…
Putting himself out there as L.
Even if it wasn't L, if he made any move against him, all it would accomplish would be the tightening of the already forming noose around his neck even further! If Hideki Ryuga, this impostor or the idol, died after this meeting, he'd be announcing to the world, to the police force, that he was Kira. He would be doomed…
His eyes peeked over his arms, flitting over to the screen of his computer. They narrowed.
He just needed to wait…
Wait and get as close as possible to this Ryuga. Get him to talk. Get him to trust him. He was after his friendship, and Light was more than willing to use his companionship as a pawn.
Ryuga's approach only proved that they had nothing on him. Absolutely nothing. This was just a desperate attempt to get under his skin.
A weight lifted from his shoulders. Only for another to fall in its place.
Naomi.
Her body…
It was supposed to have not been found. He had specified it in the notebook.
It should of…
The very same man who seemed to be troubling the mind of a young genius was lazily making his way to his hotel room, escorted by an elderly man who had his coat draped over a folded arm. The floor was empty, him having paid quite a pretty penny for his need for privacy.
It was turning out to be a semi-good day. Even though he had shown his face -twice now- to his prime suspect, which was not ideal, to say the least, he had managed to ruffle a few feathers. He hid it well, Light did, but the subtlest twitch of his eyes, a single muscle in his jaw tightening.
Of course, these weren't enough to solidify his suspicions, but still.
While he and Watari approached his room, the older man walked a wee bit faster before reaching the door to open for the lanky man, who merely uttered a quiet "thank you" as he entered the room.
He was so deep in thought as he made his way over to the sofa, his laptop open and dim, he nearly missed the pleasant little surprise that was next to his laptop. A plate. More importantly, on the plate was a generous slice of shortcake, fresh strawberries sinking deep into pillowed cream that ran down the sides.
Nearly missed it.
It took him all of three seconds to tear himself from his thoughts to hone his eyes on the dessert. And it took only a second more for his eyes to land on the fork that was absentmindedly prodding at the cake, following the silver handle, catching sight of delicate fingers that held it. His dark eyes continued to travel up the arm until they landed on the face of a young man.
Sandy blond hair, lightly tousled, framed a delicate face, the tips tickling soft, thin lips. Pale blue eyes, almost gray at a passing glance, peered over thick, red-framed glasses, meeting his onyx gaze.
"Miss Hayes." L reached forward, casually plucking the fork from his grasp. Since his spot on the sofa was currently occupied, he promptly tucked himself in the chair adjacent to the sofa. A long arm reached over, retrieving the plate and rested it on his knees. "Apologies. I mean, Mr. Miles. What are you doing here?" he asked, slowly shoveling a bite of the cake into his mouth, watching the blond. His eyes traveled over his attire, offering the smallest inclinations of his head as he curiously stared. "And why do you insist on wearing these silly disguises?"
An exasperated sigh flooded past the boy's lips when L took the cake before he reached up. Fingers curled into the thick, blond locks, only to give a soft tug. Long tresses of black hair fell around him, or should I say her, spilling from the wig, curtaining her shoulders. She removed her glasses, folding them and placing them on the table.
"The same reason you insist on keeping your face hidden from the world. And I'm here because I thought it would be nice to share some shortcake." Onyx eyes stared at her, most unamused. "Watari invited me."
Quinn leaned forward, taking the fork from L's hand and stealing a bit of the cake. Mainly to irritate the raven-haired detective. He didn't seem too terribly fazed by it, however. She placed the fork on the plate, and he returned to eating it, no qualms whatsoever.
"Why?"
"Because I asked him to."
L cast a glance over at the old man, who was busy preparing a pot of tea for him and his unexpected guest, blatantly ignoring L's gaze. He was going to have to speak with him about this later.
"Again, why?"
Quinn stared at him, her eyes flitting about his face, the corners of her lips tightening as her already fair cheeks paled. A single tremble of her lip caught his attention, though it was quelled by her finger pressing to her lips. "I'd like to help with the Kira investigation," she announced as Watari placed a tray holding a teapot and two teacups on the table, right in front of L.
He reached a pale hand forward, pouring a cup and scooted it across the table towards Quinn. "I don't believe your area of expertise would be beneficial to my investigation," he said calmly, pouring himself a cup. He started dropping several sugar cubes into the steaming liquid, watching as they dissolved away.
Quinn reached for the cup of tea he had offered her, beckoning for him to pass her the cream. He did so, watching her closely as he tasted his. It needed more sugar. "How would it not?" she countered, her spoon clanking softly against the dainty porcelain. "I would argue that this case falls right into my area of expertise. To a degree." She took a sip. "You believe that Kira can kill people with just a name and a face."
"How did you know that?"
"Your laptop was open? But that's not important. Clearly, there is something supernatural going on. You need me."
"I've been fairing well enough without you. Or your talents."
"…"
Quinn placed her cup back down on the table.
"So, is that you're way of telling me no?"
"I haven't decided yet."
"Yes, you have." Quinn crossed her arms, brows furrowing. She looked away, avoiding both men's gaze. "You can keep the cake," she grumbled, picking herself from the sofa. She snatched the blond wig, fixing her hair so that she could put it back on.
"Miss Hayes."
Quinn ignored him, shoving her glasses on her face.
"Miss Hayes," L repeated, though she continued to ignore him, making her way to the door. She could hear a sigh and several clanks of porcelain.
She reached for the doorknob only for a shadow to be cast over her and the door. A hand pressed against the door as she started to open it, promptly shutting it. "Quinn!" His voice had grown momentarily harsh when he called out her name. She turned, momentarily taken aback, but made no attempts to move away. L towered over her, his elbow resting against the door. Stray strands of his unkempt hair threatened to tickle her forehead. Dark eyes bore into hers. "You've never been so quick to yield." He leaned even closer, and this time, she did take a step back, her body pressing into the door. He studied her. His gaze made her feel vulnerable. Naked. She never quite grew out of hating it. "Have I upset you so?"
Quinn huffed, fixing her glasses. "I'm not yielding. I plan on working on the case, one way or another. With you or without you, L." Her eyes narrowed into a glare. "Seeing as how you don't want me wor-"
"You will refer to me as Ryuzaki from now on," he interrupted, pulling back and shoving his hands in his pockets. Quinn blinked in mild confusion. "If you are to be working on this case." Her eyes lit up as L walked towards the table to retrieve the slice of cake he had been eating. He shoveled another piece into his mouth, chewing loudly. "Of course, I don't have to remind you about the importance of keeping your identity a secret." Quinn nodded. "Good. Please pick an alias to stick with for the time being. My only request is that you don't wear your silly little disguises." He licked at a spot of cream that lingered at the corner of his mouth. "I would very much prefer the company of Quinn Hayes over Adrian Miles."
It was turning out to be a really good day, indeed.