[Before L's life of relative luxury and isolation, he had not been well off. He had lived in dirt and squalor, to the point where he occasionally was startled out of sleep by a rat scurrying over his face or chest.

He hates rats to this day, the way they move especially, and he suppresses a shudder when Beyond shifts his position in a way that is hatefully reminiscent of that liquid slinking.

Not that B's expression is any more reassuring. Or his words, his non-answers and his returning questions.]

Beyond. You're right, I should likely leave now. This hasn't been a productive dialogue.