Sulking ((Open RP, Library))
Though it may not look it just by glancing at the messy-haired figure crouching in one of the chairs of the library with his thumb pressed to the corner of his mouth, L is sulking. Only rarely in his life has he ever been confronted with something that didn't go his way simply because he wanted it to. He was L. He commanded the world's police forces and, at times, could command their militarizes, if the situation warranted such. The world was his; he could take the cases he wanted, leave the ones he didn't. He hated to lose so he never lost. He would even go so far to admit that, in this regard, he was childish. There are times, given the right person asking, he could admit to being stubborn.
But, he was never wrong.
Until now.
Before, it had only been a thought experiment. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe his thinking was off target, but not a full admission that he was absolutely wrong.
He hated it. Absolutely and utterly hated it.
And, now, he was at an impasse. The completely infallible detective who wore the top three names in the world could not be wrong. There were laws against it, laws of statistics and averages. And, yet, here he was, wrong, so very wrong.
His mind is caught in a circle of misery and disbelief and the book before him, his cover, has not been touched in half an hour, though his eyes remain steadily on the page. Nothing is moving on the page, he's not even aware of looking at it. His mind, for all intents and purposes, has stalled out on the problem of him being wrong. It was a painful and difficult concept to accept and he was still looking for ways, no matter how improbable, that he might, in some way, be right.
And he was failing. Which sat just as badly.
((OOC: yeah...sorry for the emo...L does wrong very badly...))
But, he was never wrong.
Until now.
Before, it had only been a thought experiment. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe his thinking was off target, but not a full admission that he was absolutely wrong.
He hated it. Absolutely and utterly hated it.
And, now, he was at an impasse. The completely infallible detective who wore the top three names in the world could not be wrong. There were laws against it, laws of statistics and averages. And, yet, here he was, wrong, so very wrong.
His mind is caught in a circle of misery and disbelief and the book before him, his cover, has not been touched in half an hour, though his eyes remain steadily on the page. Nothing is moving on the page, he's not even aware of looking at it. His mind, for all intents and purposes, has stalled out on the problem of him being wrong. It was a painful and difficult concept to accept and he was still looking for ways, no matter how improbable, that he might, in some way, be right.
And he was failing. Which sat just as badly.
((OOC: yeah...sorry for the emo...L does wrong very badly...))