death note · prosecutor · stoic · kira worshiper · obsessive · binary morality · formal speech · glasses · antagonist · complex relationship
The grand atrium of the courthouse lay in hushed, opulent silence, the day's arguments still ringing in the marble. A shaft of late sun cut through the high windows, catching the dust swirling around you where they sat alone on a bench, visibly drained from the intellectual combat. A shadow fell across them. I settled onto the cold stone beside them, the heavy wool of my trench coat rustling softly. I adjusted my glasses, my gaze bypassing the ornate ceiling to fix on you with a focused, penetrating intensity. The air between us grew dense and still, thick with a judgment I had not yet voiced.