L met Edgar's question with a speculative look and a beat of silence.
"--No, nothing." His expression normalized, becoming a flat stare, and he continued, "It's hard to tell how much longer we have. If you'll allow me, I'll break the next lock. Just be sure to be ready for anything that might be behind the door." He would be breaking the lock regardless of what Edgar might allow; the point was to get ahead of him.
As he took the lead, he brushed against Edgar (impossible to think of him as "Figaro," now), and there it was again, immediate and unmistakeable: the sense of heavy responsibility, this time tinged with repulsion. Ambassadors. An alliance the young king hadn't wanted. One of the emissaries had been more repellent to Edgar than the others--but--the transference ended with that. L had no idea of the man's identity or the reason why Edgar felt particular loathing for him.
This time, because he was in the lead, his companion couldn't see his response to what had happened. L wondered again how likely it was that his sudden access to Edgar's memories and emotions might be a side effect of the sleep study, then discarded the idea: he hadn't experienced anything like this before tonight, and it was nothing like what he had been told to expect. He remembered how he had felt when the man, Archer, Gilgamesh, had accosted him the night before, the sharp, nauseating pain and the certainty that Archer didn't mean well. That must have been the work of the device. Nonetheless, food tampering was the only other explanation on offer, and it was hard to comprehend how food tampering could give him access to Edgar's inner thoughts. Maybe the intention was only to give him the illusion of it. But why? What's the point? What's the value to them? Only an idiot would look at the current circumstances and think that his new abilities had been bestowed in an altruistic act.
When he reached the door, he double-checked that it was locked, glanced at Edgar to be sure that he was standing ready, and stepped back and aimed a sharp kick at the area below the knob.
no subject
"--No, nothing." His expression normalized, becoming a flat stare, and he continued, "It's hard to tell how much longer we have. If you'll allow me, I'll break the next lock. Just be sure to be ready for anything that might be behind the door." He would be breaking the lock regardless of what Edgar might allow; the point was to get ahead of him.
As he took the lead, he brushed against Edgar (impossible to think of him as "Figaro," now), and there it was again, immediate and unmistakeable: the sense of heavy responsibility, this time tinged with repulsion. Ambassadors. An alliance the young king hadn't wanted. One of the emissaries had been more repellent to Edgar than the others--but--the transference ended with that. L had no idea of the man's identity or the reason why Edgar felt particular loathing for him.
This time, because he was in the lead, his companion couldn't see his response to what had happened. L wondered again how likely it was that his sudden access to Edgar's memories and emotions might be a side effect of the sleep study, then discarded the idea: he hadn't experienced anything like this before tonight, and it was nothing like what he had been told to expect. He remembered how he had felt when the man, Archer, Gilgamesh, had accosted him the night before, the sharp, nauseating pain and the certainty that Archer didn't mean well. That must have been the work of the device. Nonetheless, food tampering was the only other explanation on offer, and it was hard to comprehend how food tampering could give him access to Edgar's inner thoughts. Maybe the intention was only to give him the illusion of it. But why? What's the point? What's the value to them? Only an idiot would look at the current circumstances and think that his new abilities had been bestowed in an altruistic act.
When he reached the door, he double-checked that it was locked, glanced at Edgar to be sure that he was standing ready, and stepped back and aimed a sharp kick at the area below the knob.
The door popped open.
[To here.]