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[There's no certainty for L on the matter, just clues and speculation, objects that are out of place since the last time he was here. Was that Cesar's doing independently, or the doppelganger's? He averts his eyes as Cesar opens the window and hears the oven click. At least the lasagna will get backed through, even if it means that its status was embarrassingly obvious. Maybe Cesar does think that it's fine, and merely wants to warm it, and L wants to believe that.

Thankfully, Cesar's not judging him for asking for something to take the edge off, but L eyes the bottles. The amount is different, and not really in a reassuring way. He went through a dark period of surviving almost entirely on alcoholic calories to replace some of what the cocaine burned and sweated through, and he can recognize the signs.]

Cesar, uh... have you been drinking more?

[He accepts the glass but keeps his eyes warily on the other man as he takes a sip. Are you OK is the question he feels like he should have asked; it's every bit what he means.]

*Cesar shrugs and nods. He seems disinclined to elaborate, taking the moment to drink a little more generously from his own glass.*

*The glass goes back to the counter.* {Would you like anything with that?} *He nods to L's glass, smiling slightly.* {I have juice.}

[L watches silently as the oven heats up. His concern is probably palpable, and he grapples with whether or not to say anything further about it. He's doesn't have a leg to stand on in the "self-control concerning substances" department, but he understands the need to escape, and, well... his doppelganger was just the kind of thing that would overwhelm someone to that extent, wasn't he?]

I can take it straight...

[He doesn't, though, not right away. He just turns the glass in his hands, watching Cesar.]

Do I have permission to speak frankly?

[He doesn't wait for it.]

I want to engage in intercourse with you tonight. I've prepared a list of reasons it would be beneficial, if you have doubts.

*That--well. That was not what he expected, and his face is unreadably blank.*

*As if realizing that an answer is expected of him, he moves his glass in a horizontal circle as though prompting, 'Go on.'*

*There's a certain irony that no matter how similar L's overall request had been to his copy's, L has just separated himself without even trying. That poorly concealed concern had been directed at Cesar's well-being. He's awkward.*

*He just asked to have sex--no, 'intercourse'--with a list of reasons why they should. Cesar immediately grasps the fact that listening to these reasons might be uncomfortable, maybe even harrowing, and he's already decided that he's not going anywhere until he hears all of them.*

Edited 2015-04-08 07:01 (UTC)

[Lazarus is only a little surprised that Cesar actually wants to hear the reasons; it's a pedantic and tedious proposal, not to mention bizarre, and he half-expected Cesar to shoot it down for one or more of those reasons. But he's not. He's inviting L to proceed with his measured and precise brand of insanity, and it occurs to him that maybe it was something he missed when his doppelganger was fucking him on the regular.

He slips a hand into his back pocket and withdraws a folded piece of paper.]

I did my absolute best to keep it objective, knowing that as a scientist you were likely to appreciate this approach far more than an overly sentimental one. That being said... on the off-chance that this hypothesis is incorrect, I have included some sentimental reasons as well.

[He clears his throat as he unfolds the list, which he... absolutely has written out in his nearly illegible hand.]

I've started with what I consider to be the most tenuous reason and ended with the strongest, because my intent is to be persuasive and when presenting an argument, it's best to end with a compelling point. To begin... it's been established for a significant amount of time, at least, that we consistently succeed at arousing one another, or if you'd prefer a more colloquial descriptor, we 'have good chemistry.'Physical and intimate contact feels good and our desires in this capacity tend to be compatible, which was proven definitively on the evening of January 23, carrying over into the early morning of January 24.

[He is not done, sweet summer child Cesar. He presses onward, reading carefully with his clipped, precise inflection.]

Such a list could not be compiled, of course, without referencing recent trauma and tribulations. We both resent our Doppelgangers for taking advantage of our trust, but no one is good at sex the first time. Therefore, for my second reason I propose "skill." The fumbling idiocy of initial attempts is something we are blessed to be spared for our actual "first time;" we will not hurt each other or come away unsatisfied.

[Still with him? He goes on.]

The third and final reason is one I have titled "association," with "expectation" by it in parentheses. We both hold these, and we both do so unfairly... but it's not our fault. Truly, we each have a standard that we have grown familiar with in the last weeks, and it's my belief that we will continue to hold each other to these standards, associations and expectations until they are reset. Sleeping together will put these things into perspective and, with any luck, help us move past the people who tried to step into our lives.

[Though he intended to end on that third and strongest point, he pauses and then adds a small closer.]

As I mentioned, there are sentimental reasons too, chiefly that I like you and the way things were going before. I'd go back and step into that sequence if I could live it uninterrupted, but this seems like the next best thing.

Edited 2015-04-08 07:22 (UTC)

*It's not just a list, it's a speech, and Cesar listens as though entranced. By the time L finally draws to a close, Cesar simply keeps staring for a few seconds longer.*

*Then he puts the glass down, turning to face him.*

{Yes. To intercourse.}

*His eyes are warm, and his mouth has been taking on a slow, small smile.*

{Yes to everything else, too. You made some good points.}

[If anything, L has undoubtedly proved that he's himself, and no kind of copy. He blinks twice rapidly after Cesar gives him the answer he was hoping for, then nods, hand going to the back of his head to scratch self-consciously at the short hairs there.]

Well, I thought about it a lot, so... I'd hope that the points are good. At least persuasive.

[Well, shit. Where is he supposed to go from here? Maybe it's best to drink more; he downs a fair amount of tequila in one drink.]

It's probably good to eat first. If it's going to be good... the intercourse, I mean... it's better not to try to go at it with an empty stomach. We should be levelheaded about this, it... probably decreases the chances that we'll be reminded of encounters we'd rather put behind us.

*The fleeting charm of Lazarus reading a list of reasons why they should have sex fades as L continues to talk, and Cesar downs some of his own glass, before taking out a fresh bag of corn chips and opening it. He offers it to L, but not before taking the top chip and putting it in his own mouth.*

*If L doesn't take the bag he'll just put it on the counter beside him, and turn to put the lasagna in the oven. The preheating timer hasn't finished, but it shouldn't make much of a difference.*

[The whiplash of the mood is a little bit much, to the point where even the socially atonal L kind of picks up on it. In a perfect world, his treatise would have been followed by seamlessly rolling into the sheets with a successfully seduced partner, but the oven is on and the half-frozen food is uneaten, and here they are standing awkwardly in the kitchen with cups of tequila.

He glances around for a conversation topic, counting on his desperation to provide one quickly. He notices an odd-looking appliance and is quickly moving to lift and examine it with the hand not holding his drink.]

This is different. I don't think I saw it the last time I was here.

*He turns back to him, eyebrows lifting.*

{It wasn't there, then. It appeared when I echoed back some memories from my Other.} *He holds out a hand, asking for it nonverbally. It's a small enough device that he can still sign and not be overly encumbered.*

{He used it to make mango smoothies, apparently.}

[Lazarus' eyes move between the appliance and Cesar's signs during the explanation, and he hands it back. His eyes are wide and trusting; he doesn't even entertain the notion that it might be some kind of weapon. Why would he?]

...D'you have any mangoes? That's something I feel like I have to see. Did he make it?

*Cesar's own expression is completely unguarded: Lazarus isn't the only one with no idea.*

{No mangos, but there are oranges. Hold on.}

*He hands the magnet back and turns to a cupboard, then a fridge. The first gives him a metal canteen, and the latter a jug of milk, ice, oranges... There's more things he could remove, but he stops here, handing L an orange. This done, he takes another and starts to peel it.*

*Oh wait Lazarus asked a question, did't he. Signing while holding something is harder than talking with your mouth full, but that's not stopping him.*

{I don't think so, but I don't know for sure. The echo didn't say.}

Edited 2015-04-16 04:49 (UTC)

[Oranges are significantly different from mangoes, but he's curious, and accepts the orange and turns it in his free hand as Cesar starts to peel another one. After a moment, he takes a quick gulp of tequila and starts to pick the skin away from his own orange.]

The last time I did this was with a screwdriver, but... that was all before we met.

[He tilts his head.]

At any rate, if it works, maybe you can infer more about where your Other was from based on its construction.

It sounds like there might be a story there, but before he can wonder too much he's moving on.*

{I agree. I've been meaning to disassemble it properly, but all I've done right now is guess.}

*His eyes flick to the buttons on its side, but he doesn't stop to manipulate them. Even with the delay from signing his hands are strong and fast, and he's nearly halfway done with his orange by now. Soon he's done, and he gets out a cutting board to slice the orange sections to something that will fit inside the canteen's mouth.*

[There's totally a story, but maybe it's better that Cesar isn't intimately familiar with the person Lazarus used to be, outside of a few old photographs glimpses of how old injuries have left existing scars.]

You're willing to take it apart? You must be pretty confident that you can put it back together. I thought you were a bit of a tinkerer, but I didn't think you were that good with it.

[He's finally finished picking the orange skin off; it's in more tiny pieces than it should be, but he's made sure that the surface of the fruit is smooth and even as he hands it over to be sliced. As he does so, his fingertips linger against the side of Cesar's hand, but are withdrawn quickly. He doesn't want to call to mind the lewd, bold advances of his doppelganger.]

*That touch... He looks, but doesn't pull away. By the time he smiles and turns to him, it's about the conversation's other topic altogether, and it's not clear what his thoughts from that moment were.*

{I'm willing to try. Whether or not I succeed or get very far will depend on what it looks like under the outer plates.}

*He feeds some orange through the canteen's nozzle, and then adds milk, ice, and something labeled 'vanilla' from a cupboard. The cap goes back on to the canteen, and he picks up the wand-like device, pointing one towards the other.*

*'Watch this' goes unsaid. Cesar's smile has grown comfortable, and he flips a pair of switches near his thumb. The canteen shivers, and tries to twist out of his grip. He lets go--and the canteen remains floating, rotating on the spot.*

[It really isn't clear, and Lazarus discreetly withdraws to be sure there's no oddness, difficulty or heartache where he's determined not to allow it this evening.]

If it's extremely different from anything we have access to technology-wise in this decade, then maybe you could use what you learn to revolutionize things that are more important than kitchen appliances.

[His eyes widen as the canteen actually levitates and spins.]

...forget "maybe"...

*The smile on his face falters briefly. L might not have the sensitivity to notice that the smile's successor is less bright than the one before, but the hesitation was fairly obvious.*

{One thing at a time.}

*The tool and canteen lift and fall when he moves the hand, though he's care not to disturb them too much. Then he beckons L's hand forward: does he want to try holding it?*

[For better or worse, there's a certain level of sensitivity that L quite simply lacks. Despite this, he does pick up on that pause. It would be nearly impossible not to.]

Yes, naturally. We can think about further applications another time.

[It's good, right? It means that they have more to work on. His extends his hand slowly, seeming nervous about taking hold of the spinning, hovering device.]

Have you gotten anything else back, like this? All I have is stuff that's pretty clearly from the early 2000's.

*Cesar shakes his head, and he holds the back of L's hand to steady it. It's an unnecessary gesture, and where L's touch fled at the thought of being unwanted, Cesar's leaves reluctantly.*

{No equipment, but I have more memories.}

*He takes a second pair of cups out from a cabinet, setting them on the counter.*

{His name was Caesar Salazar.}

[L's eyes follow Cesar's hand as it leaves his spidery one, which is now successfully holding onto the device. He turns his gaze back to its rotation, still slightly wary of it.]

What memories? Aside from the name, which I do like, by the way. It suits you.

*Cesar smiles again.* {Thanks.}

{One memory is where he worked. He was a top scientist at an organization called Providence.} *His eyebrows draw slightly together.* {I can't tell yet what Providence actually was, but the glimpse I had of it looked very sterile. Perhaps even futuristic.}

[What L wouldn't give to be able to tell, instantly, what every smile means just with a glance. He knows that there are words that go unsigned and unsaid in every one of Cesar's, and it's his own language handicap, the fact that he can't quite catch them.

:)

He pushes the corners of his mouth up, wishing that it really was that simple to magically put someone at ease and give them a reason to be glad.]

I've not heard of that organization but I believe that you're getting your echoes back from a "top scientist" in the future. Do you think he had a long and bright one? His future, I mean...

[He hopes so, knowing full well that his Other died when he was younger than Lazarus is now, soaking wet.]

*Cesar hesitates, the seconds stretching on. Then he shrugs, folding his arms after his next signs.*

{I hope so. I think a stronger characteristic of his future was that it was exciting, and not entirely in a good way.}

So...

[Lazarus is a little more adept at reading trouble and trepidation. Maybe it's because he's more familiar with them as a whole.]

You think he died young?

[This isn't sexy, but to his credit, Lazarus has never been fantastic at this.]

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