L silently cursed the fact that he'd actually lost track of time. Usually, his internal clock was inhumanly, eerily accurate, but now... he didn't even have time to change into a fresh set of clothes. His white shirt was randomly stained with grease and oil, and his hands and face were filthy.
And then, there was the fox. He'd spent all night tinkering with a computer he'd dismantled and various common but explosive materials, and a baby fox had just... appeared. It was so obnoxious... but, contrary to the real-world tendency of baby foxes, the creature was actually docile. Despite himself, L found himself warming to its company... and it was still following him, even after the night where "all the cute baby animals" had appeared (he HAD read the journals, after all) was over. He had to think of a name. The auburn fur reminded him of Light's hair, in a way, but there was no way he'd call it "Kira," or something along those lines.
Entering Asgard's ballroom, it didn't even occur to L to be self-conscious of the fact that he looked like a deranged mechanic. He'd done his best to wash his hands and face, but the black grease-marks remained. And so did the fox... he decided that, following his encounter with Light and the aftermath, this reintroduction to Asgard probably wasn't conducive to the dignity and respect he craved.