Aly was in a kind mood. She was sitting on her bed with a teapot and teacup, cross-legged. Her mother might prefer breeches to a dress, but she enjoyed her femininity. On her lap was a pair of her clothes she was mending, but hidden among her things were the carefully removed portions of L Lawliet's clothes. She'd promised to repair them if he was good, and he hadn't killed her so far.
This was a good sign.
She hummed as if oblivious to the world, Sight carefully controlled to zoom in on the stitchery and make it nearly invisible. It also served to exercise the magic, something she'd never had to do. Regardless, Aly slowly pressed the needle into the fabric, pulled it through, then poked it back up in easy rhythm.
When a man saw a woman sewing, he was inclined to believe that was all she was doing, or so she'd been taught.
With a heavy sigh, L opened the door. He stared down at his feet as he removed his shoes and placed them right next to his door. He missed the traps he had set up to keep others out but with Aly here, he couldn't have such a thing. Thus, making this place a normal room. Now that was not very exciting.
L glanced up at Aly. It was his version of acknowledging another's existance when they had grown to be something like room mates. They saw each other every day so there was no call for 'Hello, Miss Aly.'. He grabbed a book off of the table and plopped down onto his own bed. He went to open it when he noticed that Aly was sewing.
Does she do that often? L asked himself. He thought back but he just remembered words on a page. Maybe he should pay attention more to the person opposite to him. Or he could ignore her. That was always a good idea.
He went to read but curiosity got the best of him. Did she sew often? Gah, why couldn't he remember? "What are you sewing?" He finally decided to ask.
She made no movement to greet him, apparently focused on the sewing. Her Sight snapped back into normalcy as she glanced up at him, ah, her face said, he'd been talking to her. "There was a hole." She held the skirt up for him to see the rip across the hem. Half of it was stitched up so finely it was nigh impossible to tell there had been a hole to begin with.
Aly poked a finger through, opening the hole a little bit to wink at him, "See?" With a smile, she added, "It's right down the hem so it's very easy to fix."
She trailed off, dropping the skirt back in her lap to begin sewing again.
"Oh?" L glanced up to look at the hole. He nodded at her comment about how it was easy to fix. She appeared to be good with that kind of stuff. Then again, that was coming from the person who tore apart his clothes by their seams, which meant she had more skills than just tearing apart clothing
( ... )
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This was a good sign.
She hummed as if oblivious to the world, Sight carefully controlled to zoom in on the stitchery and make it nearly invisible. It also served to exercise the magic, something she'd never had to do. Regardless, Aly slowly pressed the needle into the fabric, pulled it through, then poked it back up in easy rhythm.
When a man saw a woman sewing, he was inclined to believe that was all she was doing, or so she'd been taught.
Reply
L glanced up at Aly. It was his version of acknowledging another's existance when they had grown to be something like room mates. They saw each other every day so there was no call for 'Hello, Miss Aly.'. He grabbed a book off of the table and plopped down onto his own bed. He went to open it when he noticed that Aly was sewing.
Does she do that often? L asked himself. He thought back but he just remembered words on a page. Maybe he should pay attention more to the person opposite to him. Or he could ignore her. That was always a good idea.
He went to read but curiosity got the best of him. Did she sew often? Gah, why couldn't he remember? "What are you sewing?" He finally decided to ask.
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Aly poked a finger through, opening the hole a little bit to wink at him, "See?" With a smile, she added, "It's right down the hem so it's very easy to fix."
She trailed off, dropping the skirt back in her lap to begin sewing again.
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