[... the SQUIP is in bed when L arrives, and it had been asleep until the sound of him falling woke it all at once.
L?
Its mental voice is fuzzy and drowsy, unfocused. A drunk and dizzy sort of concern drifts over the Bond, hazy, after it realizes just how badly things are spinning when it tries to check the time on its watch.]
[If L was a little more sober, he'd be embarrassed to admit that he didn't really think this far ahead. Of course the SQUIP would take issue with this, even if it had lost what made it the SQUIP. They'd had an agreement, L had promised... and he'd gone overboard in more ways than one.]
Everything's fine!
[His words are slurred, imprecise. It doesn't sound convincing in the slightest.]
[He grasps for the handle of the linen cupboard, pulling it open and trying to find a towel to dry his hair with. He ends up pulling all the spare sheets and blankets out, some falling out of their crisp folds and lying shapelessly at his feet.]
...yes.
[He picks up a pillowcase with his odd, finicky two-fingered grip, beginning to pat his sopping strands with it.]
[It bitterly wishes it had the strength or... steadiness to get itself up out of bed right now to scold him, or to help him, but it doesn't have it in it to do either, so it just... lays in bed.
However, despite its typical annoyance-- something familiar-- there is... something else. Understanding. Maybe a quiet appreciation.
It understands needing to numb... everything. And... it is, on some level, grateful to have its thoughts muddied a bit, to have an excuse for its inability to think as sharply as it used to. It doesn't fix the pain... but it does mask it, allow it to pretend for a little while.]
[A slight touch of a familiar sharpness just beneath the warm slurring of its words.
And then L derails whatever train of thought it had with that single question, and it sighs, rolling over in bed.]
... no. [Its swimming thoughts over the Bond convey that it can hardly blame him this time. Escapism... it's a concept it remembers knowing a lot about before, but can only remember the bare basics of now. Humans use all kinds of things to escape from pain; substance, entertainment, sex. It's almost grateful for the relief itself.]
[... it makes a sound, a huff of air that might be something approaching a laugh against its pillow. The moment passes as quickly as it arrived, however, the mood replaced with something much more somber, much more like the SQUIP's typical feelings as of late.]
... I want to get away, too. From... everything, these feelings...
[More than the Bond allows L to actually empathize with the desire. His memory of the evening's later parts is hazy, but he knows that the snowballing effect of the alcohol on his emotions isn't a comfortable thing to reflect on. He'd talked to so many people tonight, and none of it was safe. None of it was alright.]
I... think.
[As in, he's not sure. Maybe he intentionally jumped; maybe he was pushed. He's not even particularly clear on how he managed to get out; maybe a ship hand saw him and fished him out. Maybe he was always in shallow water and climbed out on his own. Maybe his magic saved him in an inventive and reflexive moment while his brain was working, just not recording memories.
It's frustrating not to know. And also to reflect on what could have happened.]
I just want to sleep. Is that OK?
[Another method of getting away. No coincidence, that the complete insomniac is asking for this now.]
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L?
Its mental voice is fuzzy and drowsy, unfocused. A drunk and dizzy sort of concern drifts over the Bond, hazy, after it realizes just how badly things are spinning when it tries to check the time on its watch.]
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Everything's fine!
[His words are slurred, imprecise. It doesn't sound convincing in the slightest.]
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[It sounds... annoyed, and muffled, as though it still has its face pressed against the pillow.]
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[He grasps for the handle of the linen cupboard, pulling it open and trying to find a towel to dry his hair with. He ends up pulling all the spare sheets and blankets out, some falling out of their crisp folds and lying shapelessly at his feet.]
...yes.
[He picks up a pillowcase with his odd, finicky two-fingered grip, beginning to pat his sopping strands with it.]
no subject
[It bitterly wishes it had the strength or... steadiness to get itself up out of bed right now to scold him, or to help him, but it doesn't have it in it to do either, so it just... lays in bed.
However, despite its typical annoyance-- something familiar-- there is... something else. Understanding. Maybe a quiet appreciation.
It understands needing to numb... everything. And... it is, on some level, grateful to have its thoughts muddied a bit, to have an excuse for its inability to think as sharply as it used to. It doesn't fix the pain... but it does mask it, allow it to pretend for a little while.]
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[Does that make sense? Oh, right. There's a pillow case. L's holding it. What was the question, again?
Something dawns on him.]
You're... not mad at me.
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[A slight touch of a familiar sharpness just beneath the warm slurring of its words.
And then L derails whatever train of thought it had with that single question, and it sighs, rolling over in bed.]
... no. [Its swimming thoughts over the Bond convey that it can hardly blame him this time. Escapism... it's a concept it remembers knowing a lot about before, but can only remember the bare basics of now. Humans use all kinds of things to escape from pain; substance, entertainment, sex. It's almost grateful for the relief itself.]
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Going soft, are you? I'm mad at me. So save your coddling.
[His hands, now empty, grasp for his wet clothing, and he squeezes a fistful of water out of his shirt.]
I think I fell in the harbor.
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... I want to get away, too. From... everything, these feelings...
[... and then L speaks again and it frowns.]
You think...?
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I... think.
[As in, he's not sure. Maybe he intentionally jumped; maybe he was pushed. He's not even particularly clear on how he managed to get out; maybe a ship hand saw him and fished him out. Maybe he was always in shallow water and climbed out on his own. Maybe his magic saved him in an inventive and reflexive moment while his brain was working, just not recording memories.
It's frustrating not to know. And also to reflect on what could have happened.]
I just want to sleep. Is that OK?
[Another method of getting away. No coincidence, that the complete insomniac is asking for this now.]