savetheearth | {004} Log: White Day [CLOSED]

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{004} Log: White Day [CLOSED]

Who: Misa Amane + Lazarus, Cesar, Emilia, and Stefan.
What: It's reverse-White Day! A chance to thank those who have helped her out so far.
Where: Various houses in Locke City and Las Vegas
When: March 14
Warnings: None expected

It was a little unorthodox to be giving chocolate instead of receiving it on White Day, but since no one else here seemed to have even heard of the holiday before, Misa figured that she could take some liberties. She really did feel bad for not using Valentine's Day as an opportunity to thank those who had taken her in and helped her out in this strange new city, even though she'd had a pretty decent excuse for laying low during that time. There was a lot that she owed the people here, and if nothing else White Day could function as a delayed Numbered appreciation day this year.

A small package of handmade chocolates in hand, Misa visited the homes of those she felt most indebted to one by one. She had prepared a little box for each of them; nothing fancy, just chocolate fudge squares dusted with cocoa. Maybe store bought would have sufficed, but Misa thought they all deserved a personal touch.

Some addresses were harder to come by than others, but one way or another Misa approached each door with a firm knock, and waited.

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Misa lets go of the blanket around her shoulders to accept the hot chocolate, listening to his description with rapt attention. "He seemed that way... all put together."

She takes a sip from the mug, calming herself with thoughts of all the new memories she has of Light. More than just a face and a name now. Athletic, judging by that punch, though also a little hot headed. But she completely understands wanting to punch L, with the way be behaved in her echoes. It certainly doesn't prove any guilt on Light's part.

"I guess it makes sense for a movie star to be dating someone like that. She probably needed someone grounded in her life."

Edited 2015-04-14 22:16 (UTC)

The change in Misa isn't shockingly abrupt or intense, but it's a noticeable difference. She's hanging onto his words now in a way that women seldom do when Lazarus speaks, and he's aware and increasingly uncertain as he proceeds.

"All put together," he confirms, with a sinking feeling. How inconvenient for his detective, if the quarry was, in fact, well-organized. It's obvious from the memories which of them presented better; what, outside of L's reputation, made men obey his orders?

"If he was a suspect in an investigation like this one, perhaps not so grounded..." he says hesitantly. "I don't think that L was a terribly good man, but... he was blazingly intelligent, and I think that if he suspected Light he had a reason. If he didn't... well. I'm echoing back someone who's just as crazy as I am if not more so."

"You're not crazy," Misa murmurs. "Even really smart people are wrong sometimes. Maybe there's evidence we haven't seen yet, and you don't have to agree, but based in what we know... I believe in Light over L."

Of course she would be bias in favor of the man who has been in the back of her mind for more than a decade over the man who may have tortured her, but L just doesn't seem trustworthy. Maybe he is a genius detective, but that doesn't mean he can't be wrong, and after today Misa is inclined to question his humanity.

But not Lazarus's. It's not fair to project this onto him; if he really is echoing back into a monster, that has to be hard on him too. Misa feels suddenly determined to make sure he doesn't take her rejection of L as a rejection of himself.

"Come here," she says simply, patting a spot on the bed next to her again. No excuse of not noticing this time.

He looks like he doesn't even begin to believe that she doesn't think he's crazy, but he is too worn out today to argue the point with any kind of determination or effectiveness. He could always pull out the old I spent two whole years of my life in White Pines Psychiatric Hospital, but he doesn't think it would be particularly satisfying.

"Maybe you're right about the evidence, or... about Light," he allows, wanting to believe it despite the memories and feelings of a cold but brilliant detective existing in his mind and body.

He seems more than a little taken aback at her invitation to join her on the bed, but it's an invitation to peace. It must be, and he'd be an idiot to reject it given the current tone of their conversation. What would it say, I don't believe you and would rather not be near you right now?

He straightens and tucks a let under him as he lowers himself onto the twin-sized mattress, letting the other one dangle off the edge. Not knowing what to say after accepting the invitation, he opts to remain silent.

Misa closes her eyes and leans her head against his shoulder. Lazarus is not comfortable. He feels every bit as bony and unsubstantial as he looks, there is none of the solidity or comfort that she had hoped the gesture would bring. She fidgets, trying to find a better angle or some secret to making this feel nicer, but eventually gives up.

The facsimile of human contact is still better than nothing.

"The hair is kind of fun."

He stiffens further at the sudden weight of her blonde head on his bony, bony shoulder, but if he wants to withdraw, he doesn't say anything, just glances aside at her attempting to draw comfort from him like a sponge working a dry, cracked riverbed.

"The hair?"

He raises a hand to touch it, but not in a tender, gentle or even flirtatious way. He's peering at the roots, meticulously running his fingertips along her scalp as if looking for lice.

"This can't be natural. You'll probably have to keep bleaching it as it grows in."

Well that's... weird. Misa opens her eyes to glance up at him as he inspects her hair, unsure of exactly what he's doing. The touching isn't unwelcome, per se, it's just odd.

"I guess so... I could always dye it back. I wonder if it would echo back to blonde a second time." She picks up a lock of hair to look at the ends, curious now. "Does it look damaged?"

Odd is par for the course with Lazarus; if Misa hasn't already figured this out, she will in very short order as she spends more time with the man. He genuinely seems to mean well most of the time, but there's no denying that he can be extremely, frustratingly clueless about some social matters.

"No... it actually looks extremely well-conditioned," he comments, fingertips traveling down to examine the ends. "Your other must have cared very much about it looking really natural. Did if feel strange for it to all grow in at once?"

The way he touches her scalp and her hair is strange and Misa honestly can't decide how she feels about it. This is what she wanted, isn't it? Reassuring touches? She isn't exactly sure if that's what this is, but it's... close, maybe?

Since when does Lazarus know so much about haircare, anyway? Misa glances dubiously at the rat's next atop his head.

"I'm not sure, I didn't really feel it," she says, struggling to describe the experience. "Or if I did, I was too distracted by the other part of the echo to notice."

A touch with permission is a good one, a touch without it is a bad one. Lazarus' understanding of the nuances and differences seems to end there.

"It would hurt, I'd almost think..." he comments. "For the follicle to generate so much at once, but... echoes don't follow those kinds of rules. People grow bigger or smaller without pain. So many physical things happen that don't occur as logic really dictates they should. I instantly put on muscle once... didn't feel a thing, just noticed I was moving differently."

"Really?"

She doesn't mean to sound quite so shocked, but... Misa has a pretty good view of his chest from here, and she never would have guessed that there was anything but skin and bone on his body, let alone muscle. She touches her fingers to chest, as if to test this assertion that his muscles exist.

"Yeah..."

He's instantly uneasy with her clear shock, but he manages not to stiffen and flinch away too noticeably when her fingers brush his chest. It's sinewy and dense but he absolutely does have some muscle on his spare frame.

"My other seems to have been a martial artist, though it doesn't make a lot of sense. I wouldn't think someone with a back bent like his would be able to, but having echoed back both I guess it's not impossible."

"A detective and a martial artist," Misa muses, adding 'and a creep' in her head. Though she is just as unconvinced about his muscles as she was before, she removes her hand from his chest, curling up against his side instead. "What strange people."

"Yeah... tennis player, too, apparently," he says, and as she curls up against him he is unmistakably stiff, now, completely unable to hide his own discomfort with the situation.

"Are... you still cold?" he asks, tugging at the blanket and trying to pull it around her shoulders again.

"A little," she answers, repositioning the blanket with his help and holding it in place. She takes a sip from her hot chocolate before asking, "Is this okay?"

She can't tell if his tenseness is typical awkward virgin nerves or something more.

"Yes, it's fine," he's quick to respond. "If you get hot chocolate on the blanket, it can be washed, I pour bleach on all the laundry."

"I didn't mean that... but I'll be careful."

She makes a mental note to be careful about laundry mixing, lest he ruin her clothes.

"You didn't? What did you mean?" he asks, blinking at her glassily. "What about this wouldn't be OK?"

"I meant... you seem a little uncomfortable," she says, as delicately as she can. Calling attention to it is probably only going to make it worse, but what else can she say?

"Uncomfortable? No, that's normal," he says, disarmingly honestly. "My back's strange, it has been ever since I got that echo back. Lying down would probably make it better."

"Oh," obviously surprised. From anyone but Lazarus she would suspect ulterior motives to saying something like that. "Do you... want to lie down?"

"It's been a little while, what with the doppelganger business..." he admits. "And I would be more comfortable..."

That she definitely can't do without spilling. Misa takes several gulps from her mug before bending to set it back down on the ground. There's some nervous anticipation in her stomach, and as she sits back up to face Lazarus she can't shake the feeling that he's going to blink at her in that owlish way and demand what she's doing when she actually tries to lie down with him. That is what he's suggesting, isn't it?

"You first."

He gives her a quizzical look when she says "first", implying that someone will be second, but he pulls his other leg up onto the bed and curls up into a ball, which... might go a long way toward explaining why his back is so messed up, actually.

While the position might not be great for his back, Misa can't help thinking it's kind of adorable. Pulling her legs onto the bed and keeping the blanket wound tightly around her body, Misa turns onto her side and lies down facing him. She tucks in her knees, but the shape is nowhere near as extreme as Lazarus's contortion.

"Better?" she asks, trying to sound less nervous than she feels.

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