[L's eyes follow Cesar; they have to, or he won't be able to see his signs. It's not an appropriate time to make a playful comment about his ass as he turns, though L has done just this, very recently. His stomach turns over at the thought.
Deep breaths.]
Medications?
[There's an edge there. His voice catches and tatters on it. It's beyond disgusting and manipulative; he is above it, even as he is deeply ashamed of the frailty his doppelganger apparently aired like so many sheets to his concerned lover. He brings a hand to his face, covering half of it, pushing his hair back from his forehead as he tries to imagine how it might have gone down.
I'm crazy. Psych meds! So many! If you really liked me, you'd care, you'd want me anyway.
Something like that? He is mortified, devastated, and humiliated, all in no small measure. To know that he's worked so hard to fix things that can bring his life crashing down so easily anyway...
He blinks rapidly several times. He can clear his head, he can get through this, he can forge forward and try to forget that Cesar readily believed a lecherous mockery of his form and personality was truly him. Even if it looks very much like Cesar genuinely couldn't see what was wrong, perhaps because he assumes that something is constantly wrong with L.
He is deeply, dazedly unhappy. The more it pulls at him, the less the effort to hide it really seems worth it. By the time Cesar asks him what his own doppelganger said, in the same vein, how did he convince you, oh GREAT detective, the tone he has to answer with is a hollow one.]
After he came for me... helped me, got me new clothes, brought me to a place where I could rest and recover... he told me that he wanted me. More than he'd ever wanted anyone.
[Though he looked at Cesar before to read his signs, he only makes eye contact now.]
He came to scare me with his attentiveness. But that aside... in so many ways, he was so good. I don't understand how he can be your opposite.
[Action]
Deep breaths.]
Medications?
[There's an edge there. His voice catches and tatters on it. It's beyond disgusting and manipulative; he is above it, even as he is deeply ashamed of the frailty his doppelganger apparently aired like so many sheets to his concerned lover. He brings a hand to his face, covering half of it, pushing his hair back from his forehead as he tries to imagine how it might have gone down.
I'm crazy. Psych meds! So many! If you really liked me, you'd care, you'd want me anyway.
Something like that? He is mortified, devastated, and humiliated, all in no small measure. To know that he's worked so hard to fix things that can bring his life crashing down so easily anyway...
He blinks rapidly several times. He can clear his head, he can get through this, he can forge forward and try to forget that Cesar readily believed a lecherous mockery of his form and personality was truly him. Even if it looks very much like Cesar genuinely couldn't see what was wrong, perhaps because he assumes that something is constantly wrong with L.
He is deeply, dazedly unhappy. The more it pulls at him, the less the effort to hide it really seems worth it. By the time Cesar asks him what his own doppelganger said, in the same vein, how did he convince you, oh GREAT detective, the tone he has to answer with is a hollow one.]
After he came for me... helped me, got me new clothes, brought me to a place where I could rest and recover... he told me that he wanted me. More than he'd ever wanted anyone.
[Though he looked at Cesar before to read his signs, he only makes eye contact now.]
He came to scare me with his attentiveness. But that aside... in so many ways, he was so good. I don't understand how he can be your opposite.