[It's a delicate and difficult balance to strike. A wrong move could make this interaction an icy or incendiary one, but L is well-used to proceeding with just enough care to protect him and just enough edge to get good results. The advantage he has in this case, tricky though it is, is the benefit of having known Mello in his youth and understanding what motivates his fiery nature. Additionally, the way the blond words his answer indicates strongly that Mello is holding onto some pride and some regret, recognizing his greatest mistake even as he realizes that he would have had to relinquish that unacceptable little bit of control to make it work.
Cruelty would be seizing the back of his neck like a dog and rubbing his face in it, but L reserves that kind of malice for those who aren't on his side. There's a time and place to linger on shortcomings, and courting an alliance with Mello isn't it. No, it might be better to remind the other man that while there is something uncanny he shares with Near, the two are far from the same person, and they value different things more often than Mello might expect.]
Actually, while it's true that I don't remember that quick death, I remember the slow one that did this to me very clearly.
["This", of course, being L's current state of pale, cold undeath. Though it suiits him in an unhappy way to have the life and vitality drained the rest of the way from his already dull and lackluster visage, it's clear that he doesn't revel in it or feel quite at-peace with what the change has left him with.]
Not only was there time to know what was happening and to think about the impact of my life, there was time to go through every phase of grief acceptance in a matter of days. At first I denied it and tried to keep going as usual, but it wasn't long before I had to accept the inevitable: that I couldn't fight it and every second I tried would just prolong my suffering. By the time my heart stopped I had to think about every breath and I couldn't stay warm, and while I didn't want to die... I guess you could say that death was stronger. There wasn't shame in admitting it by that point. It hurt for a second but then I was stronger, too.
That being said, I miss my heartbeat every second, so...
[He abandons his napkin-tearing to unfasten a couple of his shirt's buttons; close-fitting leather straps are visible over his collarbone and his ribs as he takes something metal and moving out of a pouch situated just over his sternum and sets it precisely on the surface of the table where Mello's eyes have settled. It's clever and exquisite, a small clockwork heart that beats rhythmically and pulses through a tympanic apparatus. Nudging aside the napkins, he rests his palms facedown on the table.]
The secret is that there is always a way for a partnership to be on your own terms.
no subject
Cruelty would be seizing the back of his neck like a dog and rubbing his face in it, but L reserves that kind of malice for those who aren't on his side. There's a time and place to linger on shortcomings, and courting an alliance with Mello isn't it. No, it might be better to remind the other man that while there is something uncanny he shares with Near, the two are far from the same person, and they value different things more often than Mello might expect.]
Actually, while it's true that I don't remember that quick death, I remember the slow one that did this to me very clearly.
["This", of course, being L's current state of pale, cold undeath. Though it suiits him in an unhappy way to have the life and vitality drained the rest of the way from his already dull and lackluster visage, it's clear that he doesn't revel in it or feel quite at-peace with what the change has left him with.]
Not only was there time to know what was happening and to think about the impact of my life, there was time to go through every phase of grief acceptance in a matter of days. At first I denied it and tried to keep going as usual, but it wasn't long before I had to accept the inevitable: that I couldn't fight it and every second I tried would just prolong my suffering. By the time my heart stopped I had to think about every breath and I couldn't stay warm, and while I didn't want to die... I guess you could say that death was stronger. There wasn't shame in admitting it by that point. It hurt for a second but then I was stronger, too.
That being said, I miss my heartbeat every second, so...
[He abandons his napkin-tearing to unfasten a couple of his shirt's buttons; close-fitting leather straps are visible over his collarbone and his ribs as he takes something metal and moving out of a pouch situated just over his sternum and sets it precisely on the surface of the table where Mello's eyes have settled. It's clever and exquisite, a small clockwork heart that beats rhythmically and pulses through a tympanic apparatus. Nudging aside the napkins, he rests his palms facedown on the table.]
The secret is that there is always a way for a partnership to be on your own terms.