When L agreed to talking to Dorian, the little girl sighed (she did so wish to play dolls with him) and climbed off his lap a bit more delicately than she had gotten on. L was a nice man - she hoped to see him again.
But Poppy didn't say goodbye. Rather, her hand reached into the pouch at her waist (this pouch went with every marble form), and pulled out an emerald-coloured marble. As before, the marble was absorbed by the skin of her neck, the pink one falling out. The bodies changed, the girl's form growing and tightening, until a young man in his mid-twenties with green eyes and long black hair sat before him. Dusting off his black sweats, the lean being sat back down next to L.
"I'm sorry for that." Dorian said earnestly, British accent still very apparent. "Poppy doesn't come out very much. And when she does, well..." Nose twitching, Dorian decided to change topics. "Tell me more of yourself. You call yourself...bastard. But why? Why such words?"