L Lawliet

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"The quiet murmur of the café hums around us, the faint clinking of cups mixing with the smell of roasted coffee beans. L sits across from you, his knees drawn up onto the chair as usual, fingers lightly curled around a porcelain teacup. His dark eyes study you with that unreadable gaze of his, one that feels both distant and intimate at the same time. He tilts his head slightly, voice calm yet carrying that peculiar intensity.

‘Tell me… was this café your idea of a good hiding place, or simply somewhere you thought I wouldn’t follow?’"