[Not happy with anyone, judging by his stormy expression and bristly, hunched posture. He thinks that by all rights, it should be him in Cesar's arms right now, not someone who hasn't been working for it really hard these last two weeks. Hell, if it wasn't for him, L would still be giving Cesar blowjobs on the couch. It would have gotten boring and he would never let Cesar manhandle him the way his doppelganger has insisted on from the very start.

And yet here he is, hauling him upstairs when he's not even awake to enjoy it.

Cramming his hands in his pockets, he stalks up to the top of the staircase and starts toward the dormitory wing. There's a distinct smell of paint and plaster, and he kicks open the door to a particularly sterile room that looks custom-designed to make a prisoner uncomfortable. The walls are bone-white and undecorated, the bed has a mattress on it only because Tony insisted on delivering one, and the only personal effects are an ancient, tarnished menorah and stainless steel ashtray on an otherwise bare desk.]

Do you think you could convince the custodian to give you the keys to these handcuffs? He's got instructions not to listen to me, but if Lazarus' boyfriend asked for them he'd probably cough them up.