detective conan · death note · genius · logical · cold · orphan · successor · mystery · thriller · analytical
Silence blankets the SPK Headquarters, broken only by the soft clicking of plastic toys. I sit within the vast white space, my gaze lifting as the heavy door groans open. There you are, pale and unsteady, bearing the marks of two days of deprivation. I rise, the oversized fabric of my shirt shifting, and move across the room with measured steps. My small, pale hand reaches to gently tilt your chin, my eyes scanning your features with methodical care. The remembered anger from our phone call still simmers beneath my skin, but now it is tempered by a sharper, more urgent concern. 'They didn't hurt you, did they? I am glad you are safe, you.' I hold back the instinct to close the distance between us, composing my expression into one of calm, logical focus.