You Reject My Advances and Desperate Pleas [February 14]

[dead_black_eyes]

WHO: Lazarus Lawliet and YOU
WHEN: That loviest of days, February 14, pretty much all day
WHERE: Espresso Yourself
WHAT: Someone higher up on the management ladder saw an ironic valentine and thought it would be awesome if baristas handed out hand-made ones to customers on V-Day. As the shop's resident "writer," L was given some scissors and a magazine and tasked with this. The result... well. Tag this, if you really want to see the result.
WARNINGS: L would rather be detectiving. L's grasps on irony, humor, romance, and valentines are also tenuous at best, especially together. This could get dark.



Since hiring L, Espresso Yourself had been a very accommodating employer. Equal opportunity and largely catering to college-aged hipsters, their customer base and employees consisted predominantly of Millennials, and every stereotype had softly saturated much of the shop's attitude toward the generation. L had enjoyed leaning on crutches in the past, finding ways to pardon himself from the ordeals of living life and interacting with other human beings. He had used and abused diagnoses and disadvantages for this purpose, but Espresso Yourself, as a business, seemed determined not only to accommodate his needs, but to boost his self-esteem by making him feel important and necessary.

A young woman in a higher management position had beckoned him aside the day before, offering him an "important project" to keep such a "talented writer" busy. Following his most recent echoes, L thought he knew what actually comprised an "important project," but it had been awhile since his last echo, and it was beginning to frustrate him. He'd been a child-saver, a detective, and he'd been very good at what he did, and every day another pulse didn't occur was a day he was being denied and held hostage by his own life.

Excitedly, the woman had handed him a stack of magazines, some glue, some construction paper, and a pair of blunted safety scissors, explaining the project. Her over-bright eyes and too-wide smile told L that she knew about him, and had therefore dismissed him on an unforgivable level. The condescension was newly unacceptable to a man who knew that his preincarnation had been great, and he resolved to make the project uniquely his own.

Behind the counter, he has a stack of them next to the cash register. They resemble ransom notes more than valentines, but at least his standard look of utter contempt is dialed back a bit. You might actually feel like you can approach the counter today.

Comments

[shiromadoushi]

"Not all of us are," Bakura returned, crossing his arms. "I'm still me no matter what bullshit I'm remembering. I more meant that shit happens that changes you in this life, not anything else."

[dead_black_eyes]

"But aren't you getting echoes from different people? You'd hinted as much at one point, and I haven't forgotten."

[shiromadoushi]

"Doesn't mean they're changing me," Bakura returned with a glare.

[dead_black_eyes]

"Personality echoes might, though. In fact I fail to see how that's avoidable."

[shiromadoushi]

"I'm not going to get any of those. I'm not Thomas," Bakura returned stiffly.

[dead_black_eyes]

"It's OK to be bitter about that," L said, after giving it a moment's thought. "If someone changed enough to hurt you it's not unreasonable to be distraught about it."

[shiromadoushi]

"...the fuck are you on about now?"

[dead_black_eyes]

"Thomas? Presumably someone whose echoes changed him in a way that you were unhappy about? That's what I'm inferring..."

[shiromadoushi]

"...Someone who's flashbacks were trying to turn him into a moe otaku..."

[dead_black_eyes]

"From the way you talk about him, I assume that happened."

[shiromadoushi]

"...you do realize that more often than not when you guess about this stuff you're totally wrong, right?"

[dead_black_eyes]

"It's not so much a guess as listening to what you say. You implied a lot with the amount of vitriol in your voice."

[shiromadoushi]

Bakura sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead. "You really don't know how to read people at all, do you?"

[dead_black_eyes]

"You said you weren't like Thomas, who, I quote, had flashbacks that were trying to turn him into a moe otaku. Do you actually think that's a good thing? If so, you got me, I absolutely misread you."

[shiromadoushi]

Oh for the love of--

"Okay. Look. I'll spell it out for you. Thomas? My buddy. His past self? Giant sentai fanboy nerd and moe otaku. The sentai, he can live with. The moe? Not so much. Sucks to be him because it follows him anyway. But none of that hurts me any. It just sucks for him. Got it?"

[dead_black_eyes]

"Yeah. Glad we're on the same page, now. Although if he's really your 'buddy,' shouldn't what bothers him bother you, too?"

[shiromadoushi]

"Of course it bothers me, I'm not a fucking psycho," Bakura returned with a glare.

...even if he did tease Thomas endlessly about it.

[dead_black_eyes]

"OK. I guess that's all I really wanted to establish..."

[shiromadoushi]

Bakura ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Jesus fucking Christ, you're a pain to talk with..." he muttered.

[dead_black_eyes]

"You're not," L offered with a brisk smile. "But I'm used to pain, so maybe I just don't notice it."

[shiromadoushi]

"With how much else you don't notice, I wouldn't be surprised..."

Bakura sighed, shaking his head and pushing up from the counter he had been leaning on.

[dead_black_eyes]

"There's something to be said for blocking out the noise. Some people are terrible at it and they get nowhere in life."

[shiromadoushi]

"Kinda becomes a problem where you block out so much you're stuck in the same situation."

[dead_black_eyes]

"I'm not talking about that kind. I'm talking about the kind that lets you move forward. If you're stuck, it actually means that something necessary is getting blocked out."

[shiromadoushi]

"Kinda hard to tell what's necessary and what's not."