A group of people waited in the hall ahead; L could see the beams of their flashlights and, as he approached, he could hear murmured conversation. There was Jones, Keman and the strange orb of light that followed him, another man--young, not far out of his teens, carrying a metal bat--who L didn't recognize, and Dent, who clicked off his flashlight just as L approached.
L got closer, and then, he understood why Dent wore bandages: the half of his face that had been hidden at their first meeting was a livid wreck. L's guess, based on the look of what was left of the tissue, even at a distance, was that Dent had been burned. It should have been painful, unendurable, but nerve damage might have been a factor; muscle was exposed, even bone. While L didn't flinch or stare, his eyes widened for a split second before he could normalize his expression. It would stay normal for the rest of the night: he'd seen much worse.
"How many more people are coming?" The question, spoken in a clear voice, was intended for Jones, but L was still far enough away from the group that it would have been reasonable for anyone to answer him. He shifted his grip on the brush axe as he drew even with the others, then shot a quick, sly look at the identical one in Jones's hand. No one else seemed to have a blade. Lunge would, if he decided to join them.
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A group of people waited in the hall ahead; L could see the beams of their flashlights and, as he approached, he could hear murmured conversation. There was Jones, Keman and the strange orb of light that followed him, another man--young, not far out of his teens, carrying a metal bat--who L didn't recognize, and Dent, who clicked off his flashlight just as L approached.
L got closer, and then, he understood why Dent wore bandages: the half of his face that had been hidden at their first meeting was a livid wreck. L's guess, based on the look of what was left of the tissue, even at a distance, was that Dent had been burned. It should have been painful, unendurable, but nerve damage might have been a factor; muscle was exposed, even bone. While L didn't flinch or stare, his eyes widened for a split second before he could normalize his expression. It would stay normal for the rest of the night: he'd seen much worse.
"How many more people are coming?" The question, spoken in a clear voice, was intended for Jones, but L was still far enough away from the group that it would have been reasonable for anyone to answer him. He shifted his grip on the brush axe as he drew even with the others, then shot a quick, sly look at the identical one in Jones's hand. No one else seemed to have a blade. Lunge would, if he decided to join them.