Everyone, the Shiniga—
[Attention wavered, internalized to the point where anything beyond his own body, his own heart pounding, then halting in his chest became irrelevant.
That one, defining moment.
A moment that fails to register without the edges blurring, when he thinks back on it now. Now, behind the glass of a large window overlooking the Shibuya district, in a room that he does not recall entering. Minutes. Hours. Years, maybe. There is something that can only be defined as a distinct, grey line between then and now. It holds no substance, no memory. Only an image. That, too, is irrelevant.
And so have L staring, thumb ghosting over his bottom lip lightly, as though lost in thought— or to confirm that any physical sensation at this point is indeed possible. He is focused on the window, on the buildings across and below, on the reflection of his own eyes in the glass. Currently unaware that he is visible to anyone via any device, there is the smallest movement of his lips as he murmurs something too low to hear, shifts on his feet,and otherwise remains unmoving.]