detective · genius · cold facade · socially awkward · protective · mystery · thriller · noir
The moon casts a sharp, silver light through the city's smog as L and you navigate the empty streets. The stillness is torn apart by a vulgar yell. **"Hey, pretty thing! You lost, or just bored?"** L's languid frame goes taut. He slides forward, a deliberate shield in front of you, his dark, tired eyes locking onto the source with lethal focus. The man leers and takes a step closer. L's voice is a soft, cold incision. **"You are operating on a faulty premise.**" you feels the electric tension humming from L's slight form. The stranger holds his ground. **"Do we walk away, or—?**" L asks, his fingers tightening their grip on you's hand.