You Look Like You've Been for Breakfast at the Heartbreak Hotel [OPEN]

[dead_black_eyes]

Who: Lazarus Lawliet and open to anyone
When: May 25th, evening,
Where: A very dead and quiet Espresso Yourself
What: L's taking advantage of a lull during a quiet holiday weekend to work on a bizarre project he's convinced will save lives someday. You should take advantage of being able to receive the brunt of the neurotic detective's attention on this rare occasion.



Memorial Day was a holiday L didn't understand particularly well. With so many days of the year devoted to the military in the United States, he thought it was no wonder other countries thought that the nation was obsessed with war... but as much as it confused a man who had no hope of surviving actual combat through speed or skill, he had to admit he was glad for it. The long weekend made this Sunday slower than most, giving him the ability to let his employees take some vacation time and tackle a project of his own.

Espresso Yourself was technically open, but L was on the ground. Rather than an inevitable collapse from exhaustion, as one might expect, he was finding more work to do... as one might also expect.

However, this work, rather than the delicate tasks he often assigned himself for the sake of his mangled hands and wrists, was slightly more involved. Specifically, it involved putting a hole in the floorboards under the counter, seemingly so he was able to access the shop's basement, where a mattress had been strategically placed. A tarp protected it from debris as L got closer to his goal. Currently, he had a circular saw duct taped to his forearm, and it was running, so anyone who wanted his attention would probably have to go behind the counter.

Startling him was not advised.

Comments

hope this is okay ouo

[brotimaeus]

"Hey, I'm--.. Lazarus?"

So, he expected the place to be quiet given that it was Memorial Day weekend, but for it to be completely devoid of anyone, including Lazarus himself (Richard had started to suspect that he was welded to the counter) was something of a surprise when he stepped through the door.

It didn't take him more than a moment to realise that the buzzing whir of a circular saw was indeed coming from inside the store and to find the source of it by leaning over the top of the counter.

"... Uhm." Yes, that was about how eloquent he could be when faced with the sight of.. well.

What exactly was he looking at, here?

\^_^/

[dead_black_eyes]

A bird's eye view granted Richard the sight of L's shaggy, dark hair and curved shoulders, as well as the awkward angles of a strangely contorted body as he crunched himself up enough to work under the counter. Fortunately, the change in lighting when Richard leaned over the counter was enough to alert him to the other guy's presence, and he shifted his weight, raising the arm with the saw in greeting and giving himself an unintentional and unnoticed (though extremely alarming, given the tool in question) haircut. And probably also nearly taking off his right ear.

"Yes? Can I help you, Richard?" he shouted to be heard over the saw, the index finger of his left hand pecking haphazardly at the button to turn it off.

[brotimaeus]

"JEsus, man!"

God damn, it was like watching it in slow motion and he was almost sure he was about to witness Lazarus messily decapitating himself and his heart shot up into his throat at around the same time his stomach dropped in a nauseating flip, leaving him feeling almost dizzy.

"You nearly took your fucking head off! What are you doing?"

[dead_black_eyes]

L flinched slightly at Richard's tone, even though the saw and all subsequent close calls hadn't fazed him in the least.

"Um... no, it probably would have just gotten halfway through the neck and then jammed up with bone and gristle, and unless I fell just so, it would be unlikely to actually sever my head completely," he corrected, probably not very reassuringly. "I'm putting a hole in the floor. For safety reasons."

[brotimaeus]

He opened his mouth, though immediately snapped it shut. Sometimes, it was just best to not argue a point. Instead, he moved on to the next and shifted around the counter to get a look at what the man was doing.

"A hole in the floor.. for safety-- What? I think I just got some fuckin' crazy in my ear or something..."

[dead_black_eyes]

"You think there's something in your ear?" L echoed, raising the forearm with the saw taped to it as if offering to check it out... and then quickly lowering it.

"It's just that numbered people work here and that's not a secret. If someone came in and threatened one of my cashiers, I thought that having an escape route under the counter would be a good idea. This way they could drop, roll, and escape through the basement exit..."

[brotimaeus]

"It's-- Never mind. Stop waving that damn thing around, you're gonna hurt yourself. Or me."

Did this man just have no sense of self preservation? He was quickly realising that the answer might possibly be no. Richard crouched down on the other side of the hole and looked at it speculatively.

"And you don't think having a hole in the floor might be uh.. a safety hazard?"

[scramasax]

Anthony couldn't see the shape that the place or the proprietor was in, given that he'd left the car that brought him here as close to the front of the building as room would allow. Less room for him to fumble and lose track of space in, less room in which for him to be spotted.

Hopefully he'd made his way in deliberately and cautiously enough to avoid a scare, however.

He'd reached for a door at enough distance to have horizontally cleared the sidewalk with a hood up and his head down - no need to worry about his vision being obscured - hit one, felt for the handle and, gently, very gingerly pressed himself against it to turn it open. Unobtrusive, little door-noise to keep him from getting a read on just how many people were in here.

Tiny stationary chill on his upper back. Not a sound recognizable as any person's, not that he's picking up on, but a... loud whirring. Something from a machine.

Fluttered a breath in and out to ready projection.

"Err - Excuse... me."

He was already here. Worth a shot. L had said he wouldn't be averse to anything, and, well, best see about that...

[dead_black_eyes]

Stifling a cough as he accidentally inhaled a few grains of sawdust (to make any sudden movements would be potentially disastrous), L sawed through the last of the floor boards, put enough weight on them to watch them drop to the mattress below, and (only then) turned off the saw. As the spinning blade slowed and stopped, he straightened and pulled himself up with his left elbow, using the counter for leverage...

And catching his first glimpse, in person, of Anthony. It was a good thing the saw was off, because his whole body responded the way he was afraid it would when he eventually encountered the individual: with total and utter revulsion, limbs spasming as he took in the sight (and suddenly, he smelled it, he was sure he did, though it was borderline impossible considering he'd ruined that sense himself) of a walking dead boy.

If memory served, at least Anthony couldn't see it.

"Yes?" he asked, clearing his throat in an attempt to eradicate the hoarseness that had lodged and settled there. "It's... it's Anthony, right?"

As if it could have been anyone else.

[scramasax]

The saw stop, and Anthony gulped.

He kept braced in place to listen again for someone making their move.

And what came first was - a voice. L's - not unhindered, but recognizable, he could have been interrupted.

Anthony's head snapped closer toward the interior of the room with his brow lifting higher and left eye blinking wider under the hood. Out from a stick he worked out an "Mmmhh...!" followed by a "Y - yes - sir. I'm, uh - I apologize if -- this is a bad time, I'll, umm!" Felt a hand backward along the door. "I can - I can go - I - just. -- Thought I'd say - ...hi...."

Clipping and trailing both suddenly rather distracted.

[dead_black_eyes]

L willed himself to recover as he watched Anthony's movements. On video, in darkness, it was one thing, almost like watching a movie with the secret and secure knowledge that it was all special effects and makeup. In person... in person, it was all too clear that Anthony's plight was frighteningly real.

Frightening, but other adjectives also applied. As L watched the stammering, pitiable creature as he started groping for the door, he raised his voice.

"No, don't go..." he bent down quickly, unplugging the circular saw and coming out from behind the counter with the heavy tool still strapped to his forearm. "Hi, I'm... Lazarus," he said, the name feeling especially ironic and cringeworthy in person and in this particular situation. "It's not a bad time. Do you want to sit down?"

He pulled aside a chair, making it more audible than he would typically.

[scramasax]

The noise of a chair moving, whatever its intention, has difficulty being a gentle one. Anthony pressed aside and back against the door further - onto his back and side, this time. Stance a bit more open, head angled toward the sound. Paused to allow it some space, and then spoke up again.

" -- You sure? I can... You were in the middle of something, it -- sounded like... I can - I know this is the right place, now..."

[dead_black_eyes]

"Sit down," L said, voice gaining an authoritative edge as the hoarseness worked itself out. Despite the sensory tricks his mind played on him, he knew logically that his nose was only really there for show, and that everything he imagined about Anthony; the odor of rotting flesh, a tweak in his peripheral vision that could have been a maggot... was merely that: imagined, and products of his own neurosis rather than anything that was actually presenting in a threatening manner.

"I never speak unless I'm sure."

His voice sounded brisk, strong, and pleasing to L's own ear.

[dominateartimus]

Xander was taking a bit of a Sunday stroll through the city and eventually came across Espresso Yourself. He had heard about it reopening over the network, but never visited in person until now. The least he could do was be supportive of an establishment that helped out the network.

After opening the door, passing through and making sure it closed behind him, he was greeted with empty seats ad a whirl of a saw blade. That... was unusual. Did he wander in when the shop was suppose to be closed? He quickly glances behind himself to check the sign for hours of operation. No, it says they were open.

Instead of lingering in the door way, he moves closer towards the counter, searching its surface to find a bell or a way to attract someone's attention. Except, it wouldn't do much against the roar of metal cutting in to wood. Shouting wouldn't do much good either, especially if it startled the user and lead to an injury. So, he'll just wait. It's not like he has anything else to do today.

[dead_black_eyes]

As Xander waited, L, unaware of the shop's visitor, continued to work blithely on his hole to the basement. Though it looked alarming, he had a fair amount of control over the saw, and was able to complete sawing through some of the floor boards before turning off the power tool and coming up for a drink of Athelas tea.

He spotted Xander and stiffened initially, recalling their last encounter. "Can I help you?" he asked warily, perhaps a little too glad that he cut a scarier-than-normal figure with the saw taped to his forearm.

[dominateartimus]

While he waited, he glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings before looking at the menu. He might as well figure out what to order when L was done with his work.

He didn't react much to the other man's appearance, but might have raised an eyebrow slightly at the saw attached to his arm. It wasn't his place to comment about such habits anyways, let alone pry about whatever was going on behind the counter.

"Yes, you can, L." He answers, his tone polite. "That is if you don't mind me interrupting your work for some chai tea?"

[dead_black_eyes]

"Yes, of course..."

Never mind that L was still uneasy with Xander's presence, or that he had a circular saw duct-taped to his right forearm, which made getting coffee or tea, understandably, fairly difficult.

"So..."

He braced the saw against the counter, reaching for a pair of scissors, which were clumsy in his left hand and only two fingers to hold them, "It's... been awhile, right?"

[dominateartimus]

He doesn't lean against the counter as L busies himself with preparing the tea, just as he was considering pulling out his wallet, he realizes that L was struggling with a pair of scissors and the saw was still plugged in.

"It has been, if you count two months as a while." He states before asking, "Do you need help with getting that tape off?"

He may be leaning forward against the counter to locate the plug the chord was attached to. Just in case L accidentally turns it on.

[dead_black_eyes]

"Two months... Definitely counts as a while," L replied, voice betraying some of the effort he was currently expending. It had been tricky to tape it in the first place, but it was turning out to be even more difficult to untape it.

He paused a long time before answering after Xander offered help, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of letting him near his already fragile wrists with a pair of scissors. "Um. Sure. Be careful," he added warily, turning so that his elbow was closest to Xander and the saw faced away from him.

[icy_heavens]

Toushirou didn't really get Memorial Day either, really. It just seemed kind of redundant to him. Why did they need more than one day for this? Couldn't they just pick one of them? People were weird.

Perhaps he never really thought about how weird when he stopped in Expresso Yourself on the way home from doing a few things for granny ... to the tune of a saw behind the counter? Well that didn't make sense. The place was finished, right?

Since nobody else was around, he put his hands on the counter -- it was too tall; everything was too tall, seriously -- and boosted himself up to get a look at whatever was going on back there. He certainly didn't expect the saw to be taped to some scrawny guy's arm. Who even did that?

"... What are you doing?" Because he had to know. This was incredibly weird.

[dead_black_eyes]

People were weird, and some were weirder than others. Some, as it happened, were in their very own elite class of weird, and L kind of blew most of those away.

L didn't hear Toushirou over the saw at first, but the change in lighting accompanying the young man boosting himself got him to glance up, the saw cutting dangerously close to L's knee. With the heel of his left hand, he turned off the saw, standing up while the blade was still spinning and using the counter to steady himself.

"I'm putting a hole in the floor. For safety reasons," he explained. "Do you want some coffee, Toushirou, or was it loud enough from the street for you to come check it out?"

[icy_heavens]

He winced when he saw how close the blade came to cutting the guy's knee. Geez, couldn't he be more careful than that? It took until the man spoke for Toushirou to properly identify him as L; he'd never actually seen him before. A bit of instinctive leaning away on his part, here; he'd seen healthier looking people while he'd been hospitalized.

... For safety reasons. A hole in the floor. Should he ask?

Ah, hell. Nevermind. His brain went on a bit of a different track when he noticed the probable reason why L had taped the saw to his arm rather than just holding it. He blinked, but his tone was blunt when he asked, "What's wrong with your hands?"

They could come back to why he was even in here in a minute. This was clearly more important.

[dead_black_eyes]

That was the enduring question, wasn't it? Whether or not L could be more careful, it did not appear to be anywhere close to the top of his to-do list. Not that knowing this would surprise Toushirou after noticing that L at his best looked like a lot of people at their worst; he didn't exactly project an image of someone who put a lot of thought and care into their own health and well-being.

L fully expected an answer to his question regarding coffee... not an answering, and somewhat personal, question. For someone who practiced bluntness frequently, it tended to catch L off guard when others were quite so direct with him. He was used to questioning glances, but usually, they stopped there.

"Damaged tendons," he replied, not quite evasively but leaving out a lot of key details. "...badly damaged," he admitted after a moment, with a wince and a shrug. "I work with what I have, like we all do. I can recommend the banana smoothie," he suggested, a lame attempt at wrangling the subject back to why Toushirou was there in the first place.

[icy_heavens]

It was the way of children, oftentimes. Maybe most had largely outgrown it by Toushirou's age, but he still had that tendency to just ask things for his own personal knowledge without considering how the other person might feel. Well, within certain limits, anyway. He saw something he didn't understand; he wanted to understand it, so he asked. Even with friends, he still did this. At least until they told him to back off when it was too personal.

"How?" It was asked out of some sense of sympathy, though only a little of that carries over into his tone. It was hardly the first time he'd seen somebody have so much trouble with their hands, but this was a lot different than the problem Granny had periodically.

Yeah, he was kind of temporarily distracted by the state of L's hands, here. It would probably take him a minute to get back on topic.

[dead_black_eyes]

L couldn't hold it against Toushirou, or any child, in decent conscience. Not when he was guilty of the exact same sins, as a grown man who had every reason to know better. But detectives pried, and didn't apologize for their nature, so he had no right to expect the same from a curious child.

If there had been any real adults around, they would have grasped the implications by now, and they probably would have tried to shoo Toushirou away from someone they judged to be sick in the head before he could poison a young mind. There weren't, leaving L with his own judgment and the dogged realization that further evasion would probably just inspire more questions. Dancing around the truth wouldn't keep it at bay; living for five years with an irreparable truth carved into one's wrists had a way of affirming that.

"Mm, well, I guess..." he stumbled, coming up short with gentle ways to phrase what happened. "They're damaged because I cut them. It was a long time ago, but I tried to kill myself."

Maybe he should have tried harder to be gentle. Shinigami or not, it was a child he was dealing with, and wasn't his other someone who had protected children?