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Laura Moon (spitandviolets) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,

"No, I don't know if the numbers are accurate," Laura replied absently. It was a true statement, and she had a morbid fondness for truths. "However, Ryuzaki, you have given me no reason to believe that they are not. I do not know why. It is one of the mysteries of the dead, that sense that someone would never tell a lie without good reason. For reasons unknown to me, or reasons that I simply do not understand, I trust you." There was something that almost sparkled in those dull, blank, dark eyes. It was a flicker of life, of soul, of spirit, of something that transcended the living and the dead.

If Laura Moon had known that L felt as if death stalked him, she would have departed at once. It was never her intention to make the living feel uncomfortable, and when she did, even on accident, it was a bit of an issue. People only noticed the negative when they felt threatened, and it was in those moments that she could not pass for human. She haded simply making it, simply squeezing by, but she hated more the inability to pass for human. She just wanted people to speak to her. That, perhaps, was why she had not sensed L's discomfort in the past few moments: she wanted to believe. She wanted, in what was left of her heart, that odd empty spot that enabled her to still have desires, even if they were the echoes of a life lived long ago, to believe that he did not think her status, that she was dead, as odd or negative.

Additionally, had L explained Shinigami to him, she probably would have asked how she was much different. They were dead, yet not dead, and they were afraid of dying the eternal death. That, in truth, was what Laura was, how Laura felt. They seemed to follow around a human, someone who was alive, and they had the power, if they chose to be compassionate, to protect the person that they were following. Perhaps the only differences were that Laura did not have a Death Note and that she would not die if she tried to defend the person that she was following. She had been Shadow's shinigami; now she was lost, somewhere in limbo, looking for someone else to protect, to follow, to help.

Unfortunately for L, his averted gaze had not gone unnoticed, and she had smirked. It was pale, serene, somewhat beautiful. "And here I thought that you were immune to the disappointingly disgusting state of my arm. I apologize. Such graces elude me of late. I will dress it as soon as possible." Fortunately, it had gone misunderstood; she thought that he was queasy, not excited. If she'd know that he was even remotely interested in the slide of her strap down her arm, it probably would have been a shock that would have surprised even her. No one had thought of her as attractive in a long time, especially since she was dead. Jay was an exception, but he didn't know that she was a woman in the past tense.

"A detective? That's fascinating. I haven't even had a run in with a police officer since I was in high school; I've never met a detective." A pause. "You've seen autopsies, I've been through one. What a team, huh?" She laughed. Morbid ironies were her favorite.

The reverent way that he touched her would have made her flush if she had the ability to. It was so kind, so gentle. She shifted slightly and swallowed, offering him a small smile. She made no mention that the bone wasn't lined up very well; it was hard to align a bone, and this was as good a fix as any. When he put the stapler against her arm, she looked up at him, offering as kind an expression as she could, and when the metal entered her flesh she did not even flinch, let alone blink.

"Don't be," she murmured, reaching up to touch the back of his hand. "I appreciate it. I don't think that I would be able to do it myself. You're doing fine. Can you continue? If not, I understand."