L wasn't dead, and he was, therefore, both present and reachable to a a degree. But like most things that concerned him these days, it was a compromise. He could be seen and touched and spoken to, but he didn't always remember or understand.
He set the pieces in place meticulously. When Mello and Bakura played chess with him, he set up both colors, commandeering any aspect of the visit he could handle 100% competently. That began and ended with chess, essentially.
"Not easily," L agreed, his tone neutral and soft. "But you sell yourself short. You're a good chess player. It's never easy..."
Along with so many other things.
"I haven't been faced with the prospect of a game this exciting for a long time. Do you remember when we were fighting him, Mello, and he was trying to stand in our way? We were just trying to make a better world."
He set up the pieces more quickly, a troubled expression flitting across his pale face.
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He set the pieces in place meticulously. When Mello and Bakura played chess with him, he set up both colors, commandeering any aspect of the visit he could handle 100% competently. That began and ended with chess, essentially.
"Not easily," L agreed, his tone neutral and soft. "But you sell yourself short. You're a good chess player. It's never easy..."
Along with so many other things.
"I haven't been faced with the prospect of a game this exciting for a long time. Do you remember when we were fighting him, Mello, and he was trying to stand in our way? We were just trying to make a better world."
He set up the pieces more quickly, a troubled expression flitting across his pale face.