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"Light, would you come over here for a moment?"
Light doesn’t turn around, his focus fully trained on the work in front of him. He flips to a new page in the file he’s reviewing, skimming the page. "What is it?" he asks, voice detached as he flips to the next page.
"Your opinion would be a great help to me."
Vague, as always. It’s one of those traits Light can’t decide how he feels about. On one hand, it annoys the hell out of him, but at the same time, it makes him think, forces him to listen closer. In that sense, it endears Light to the detective’s company. Nobody else is quite as capable of having intellectual discourse with him as L is.
Light swivels his chair around. "Hm?" He meets L’s grey gaze.
"What color do you think would suit me? This red—" he holds up a small vial of wine red nail polish, then brings another up, the bottles clinking against each other in his hand "—or the black? I can’t seem to decide. Last time I painted my nails, I went with black, but I was thinking a bit of color would raise the spirits around this place. It really is quite dismal at times…"
Light had eventually distanced himself from L’s ramblings. Still, there was one thing that grabbed his attention.
"Why are you doing that?" He leans forward slightly, coming off the chair's backrest.
"What, painting my toenails?" L asks. "I paint my toenails because it’s less noticeable than having painted fingernails. I'm sure you understand."
What a fine sentiment from the man whose feet are exposed at any moment he deems appropriate, which is, nearly, all the time. Besides, that wasn't even close to Light's main concern.
"No—why are you doing that on the bed? You’re going to spill it on the sheets." L hasn’t opened the polish yet, but the idea of a mess like that makes Light bristle.
"I’m being careful," L insists. "So, what do you think?" He extends either bottle slightly, one at a time, giving Light the chance to weigh the options. He sighs. There’s clearly a trick here, a right answer he needs to give.
"Why do you care what I think?" He takes the easy road, evading the question. It's useless to him, after all.
"Like I said, I can’t decide which one to use."
"If you're so sure people are going to be looking at your toes instead of focusing on the investigation, go with red—I also find it dismal around here. Though, I think that your feet are the least of our worries." Light turns back around, concerning himself again with the files set in front of him. This information is already engraved in his mind, but he at least has to make a decent effort at looking productive.
"I'm glad you agree with me. I was leaning towards the red, though I'm sure you could tell—I wasn't hiding my preference too well."
"Yeah…" Light mutters, resting his temple against a few fingers. He should be glad. L talking to him means a distraction from his faux-focusing (fauxcusing, if you will). He just finds himself vaguely bothered.
The time it takes for L to paint his nails is decently quiet, save for the detective's off-key humming of the pop song Misa played on repeat last time she came to headquarters; Light had just gotten it out of his head.
"Now, what color would you like?" L says, more to himself, though Light can still tell it's directed toward him. He's not going to do this today.
"You're not going to paint my toenails."
"Why not? Nobody has to see it if you don't want them to. Plus, I've got other colors if you don't like red or black—although, it would be fun if we were to match…"
"You're not going to paint my toenails."
"That's a shame."