[Whether or not the doppelganger would actually have let it go far enough to endanger L's life is something that'll never be proven; Cesar's acted quickly, quicker than even the doppelganger expected, and he's being hauled away from his squirming and struggling counterpart abruptly. He laughs indulgently as the chain pulls taut, pressing his back flush against Cesar and leaning into the source of the tight grip.]
Ha! That's more like it!
[He continues to laugh as Cesar shoves him against the desk, hard enough to bruise but certainly not enough to trouble the doppelganger. As Cesar goes through the drawers, he reaches out to stroke at his hair, his shoulder, anything he can reach.
The drawers seem a little more lived-in and realistic than the horribly bare and clean room. A pair of scissors, some rubber bands, stationary, a checkbook, a marble chess set, a gold pocketwatch with an inscription in Russian and the year 1923 inscribed on it, a journal written in what reads as complete nonsense but is actually a complicated cipher. The bottom drawer, the one L's doppelganger nudged shut with his foot, contains various papers from doctors' offices and about six prescription pill bottles. One seems to have been opened and tossed back in a hurry, and if the small blue pills aren't instantly recognizable as Xanax, the clearly labeled bottle certainly is.]
I can't help that you make me do bad things, Cesar.
[Action]
Ha! That's more like it!
[He continues to laugh as Cesar shoves him against the desk, hard enough to bruise but certainly not enough to trouble the doppelganger. As Cesar goes through the drawers, he reaches out to stroke at his hair, his shoulder, anything he can reach.
The drawers seem a little more lived-in and realistic than the horribly bare and clean room. A pair of scissors, some rubber bands, stationary, a checkbook, a marble chess set, a gold pocketwatch with an inscription in Russian and the year 1923 inscribed on it, a journal written in what reads as complete nonsense but is actually a complicated cipher. The bottom drawer, the one L's doppelganger nudged shut with his foot, contains various papers from doctors' offices and about six prescription pill bottles. One seems to have been opened and tossed back in a hurry, and if the small blue pills aren't instantly recognizable as Xanax, the clearly labeled bottle certainly is.]
I can't help that you make me do bad things, Cesar.