L - Stop Thinking About It.
"You're not his keeper. You don't have to know where he goes all the time," came L's voice completely unfettered. She didn't have to hide in her own home... Not even when he was around. She made that leap with him several moons ago and she hadn't regretted it since. That was good. It was good. She was glad to feel like, after three cycles, that she could be comfortable around someone. And if things turned sour and he tried to fuck her over? Maybe she'd just kill him. Solve the problem right there real fuckin' quick.
She tried with Lydia, too. Didn't even know why. It was one of those times you do something just because you want to see if it'll hurt. Like touching a levin-charged fence just to see if it'll shock you even though you know it will every time. Morbid curiosity and all that. That hadn't come back to bite her yet, either.
She sat in her living room in nothing more than a tanktop and a pair of cheeky underwear, legs folded below her on the floor as she tinkered with a gun that was many sizes too large for her. Hard to imagine it completely put together, anyway. There were pieces missing and scattered all around her in a chaotic looking but organized-for-her circle surrounding her. She knew where everything was. She knew what she was doing.
Leaning over, L pinched her tongue between her teeth, the tip just barely poking out between plump lips as she fed a new wire into a hard to reach opening with tweezers. Almond-shaped eyes squinted as she moved slow and steady, nice and easy.
<"Fuck,"> she cursed in Xaelic as the wire twisted too far and missed the mark. Concentration broken, she sat up and stared away from her project, steel-colored eyes glazing over for a bare moment as she returned to her thoughts.
"Why the fuck is this so difficult," she asked no one. "Why the fuck am I talking to myself?" Incredulous, she sat back on her heels, knees digging into the cold tile floor. She knew why she was talking to herself... Because every time she tried to bring up anything complicated or sensitive with him, it was expertly maneuvered around. Or just avoided all together. Why did it matter, anyway? What ever happened to 'just work partners?' He was a good work partner. That was good enough. Had to be. Apparently he had a KID? That was a lot. And it didn't matter if she didn't want to dive into that because she wasn't diving into shit. 'member, L? Work. Partners.
"Then maybe you should stop thinking about it, dumbass."
With a sigh, she leaned back over her project and, with her tongue sticking back out, eyes trained on that stupid, tiny little hole, she successfully threaded the wire through. That had to mean something, right? Success on the heels of decision making had to mean something. Maybe it meant she was right. She was right and she should drop it. She'd be happier if she dropped it.
