It turned out that removing one's IV, stealing scrubs to impersonate a medical professional and sneak into another patient's room, and getting into a fistfight with said patient were all somewhat frowned-upon. The only people who were really in trouble were the nurses and orderlies who had failed to notice L's little escapade, but they weren't the only ones being disciplined. The restraints pinning the detective's forearms to the bed said so plainly enough, even if they were to "protect" him from wandering off to participate in more heated fights with other patients.

On the bright side, Tony had succeeded in snapping that rigid silence, and then some.

He glanced aside as Richard entered, making brief eye contact with the other man. The last time they'd encountered one another, L had been literally out of his mind; he had doubted much of what he'd seen in hindsight, knowing it to be unreliable at best. Though he'd been a lousy shield for Tony, he'd tried, even if he'd probably made it more difficult to rescue both of them through his unwillingness, and genuine inability, to cooperate. He thought that Richard and Dirk had been monsters, even Tony, the Mafia men, everyone were monsters, and who could blame an overtaxed brain for seeing them that way and reacting the way he had?

"So..." voice cracking, hoarse from silence and then the shouting of the day before. "So Tony's doing better? I'm not... mad. If he's not mad."