Georgia

Gee Shidou was up to her eyeballs in paperwork, most of which needed to be done immediately if not yesterday, which explained a great deal of her intense focus. However intensely she was working, though, she still managed to be alert enough to catch—"Hello, L," she called out without really looking up from her work.

L dropped into her office from the loft above, landing in a crouch. "How did you know I was there?" he questioned—not accusatory, but genuinely curious.

"I'm used to you dropping in unannounced," Gee replied easily. She pointed up at the loft with her pencil. "Plus one of those floorboards is starting to creak a little."

L nodded his approval of her reasoning. "Very perceptive, Georgia Shidou," he complimented.

Her pencil point snapped against the paper, and her knuckles paled. "Please don't call me that," she requested, closing her eyes.

L brushed his dark hair out of his eyes, but didn't make eye contact with her. "Why not?" he questioned.

"Just don't," Gee told him, voice hoarse.

"Georgia Shidou is your given name, is it not?"

"Damnit, L—just don't!" He Gee been gripping her pencil any tighter, it would have snapped in two. "I don't ask for much, but on the one thing I do ask for, is a little cooperation too much to ask?"

L blinked in response, still not meeting her gaze. (Not she not been worked up about his address of her, she wouldn't have noticed the lack of eye contact; that much was par for the course.) "One's given name should not cause so much anxiety," he noted as if he were commenting on the color of her shirt.

"I know that, L," she replied, running her hand through her shaggy hair. "I'm just not one of those people."

"And why is that?" L asked.

"I don't want to talk about it, L," Gee replied quietly.

"I do," he told her matter-of-factly. "Why?"

Gee sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "My dad saddled me with that name," she explained.

L glanced briefly at her back. "I see no saddle," he deadpanned.

Gee laughed without humor. "You know damn good and well what I mean."

"Apologies. Continue."

Gee looked over at L. "What else is there to tell?" she questioned, her voice taking on an icy edge.

"Parents choose names for their offspring all the time," L replied in a damnably condescending tone. "I wish to understand why you feel your situation is worse than others."

Gee sighed deeply, rubbing her eyes. "Swear not to tell anybody?" she mumbled.

L hmm-ed in response, which Gee decided to interpret as a "yes" and explained, "My dad got the idea to name me Georgia. He ended up leaving me and my mom and… I never managed to forgive him."

"For what?" L asked.

"For being a bastard and giving me a stupid name," Gee replied coldly, burying her face in her hands.

There was some movement, and suddenly Gee felt someone's presence at her side. She looked up; L had perched himself, still in a neat crouch, on a clean corner or her desk. Gee was just noting to herself that he was like a damn cat in that regard when something strange happened. Slowly, L lifted his eyes up to meet hers. Given that he rarely made eye contact with her, she was genuinely surprised to find that his eyes were dark.

And then he reached out to touch her. It was a simple gesture, laying his hand on her shoulder, but there were volumes of reassurance in the touch. "I'm sorry." No elaboration was needed.

Gee nodded her thanks, and then verbalized it, softly: "Thank you…" She would have commented on the eye contact L had just made with her, but he had already broken it. Gee looked down to her work for a moment, and looked up to find herself in her empty office. He had gone as silently as he had come in. Shaking her head, she signed one of the reports, Georgia Shidou, and laid it on top of the others.

It was the only report she had ever willingly signed with her full name.