#87 Tea

He's really not much more than a child himself, I suppose that's why he gets along so well with the orphanage children.

Oh, he's in his twenties, I know, but owing to one thing and another, he just never really grew up. He actually still goes into deep sulks, won't eat any vegetables, I've tried and failed to get him to vary his diet. The best I can do is getting him to eat fruit.

The children are at such cute ages at the moment. Matt and Mello just about to head into puberty, miniature detectives, shuffling up to L when he comes back to the orphanage and whispering their little jokes between themselves.

And Near… if only he would allow himself to be touched, I doubt the girls in the orphanage would ever let him go, even I have to admit he's adorable, mop of white hair covering most of his face, one arm constantly clutching that plushie panda doll that L gave him as an infant.

He asks them into his room, whenever he's back, and they have tea together. It's the one time that Mello can be trusted to sit close to Near without trying to kill him. He still won't sit next to the white-haired boy though, L doesn't push him to do something that would so clearly offend Mello.

I think L does it as observation. I doubt it's anything to do with his affection for the children, though he does care about them, but the tea is some sort of observation test, I think.

His black eyes always fix on their little hands as they sip at the drinks.

"Nail polish, Mello?"

Mello's face flushes and he mumbles that he likes the look of it. L shrugs and nods, agreeing that it will, at least, stop him biting his round little nails.

"Which you still are, Near."

Near doesn't appear to respond. Then one small hand jumps to his mouth as he nervously bites at the nails.

L takes that little hand and places it back on the table. He ruffles the mop of white hair and tells him that nervous habits like that really ought to be got rid of as an early age. He drops two more sugar cubes into his tea, apparently not seeing the irony of his words.

His gaze flickers onto the third member's hands.

"You've started smoking." Those ebony eyes are fixed on Matt.

The game-obsessed child gives a little squeak and drops his cup. Mello rolls his eyes and starts mopping at the spill on his friend's lap.

There is a short lecture on how three minutes are erased with every tabaco-filled breath, on how life is a terrible thing to waste, and finally, how Matt is far too intelligent to be doing something as frankly stupid as smoking away his lungs, and especially at such a young age.

Matt glares at him through the yellow lenses, but doesn't argue, though that is more to do with the meaningful looks Mello is giving him than out of respect for the ruffled-looking man.

When I ask him later what else he chanced to observe about his heirs during this latest visit, he smiles very slightly.

His head raises and he replies, "None of them are copying me."

I don't understand, not at first.

With time, it dawns on me that he often chastises the children when they try to be too much like him. I recall the worry that was always in his eyes when Beyond was alive.

I thought, for a while, that he was trying to prevent these new three becoming another Beyond Birthday.

But it wasn't that.

After Beyond, he tried to convince me and Roger to shut down the orphanage all together. Only when we told him that all those children would loose their home did he stop.

But he's still trying to shut down our little genius factory. He's visiting them and trying to stop them from becoming him.