[B lets out a seething growl. The anger in his posture and in his voice are heavily bridled: though his instincts are heading towards blind rage, he will keep his body and mind under control. Control is what this is all about. Control is what this Shinigami, the being that was supposed to be his idol, his creator, and his alone, did not seem to have. He let Mello's head go, and his posture relaxed, deliberately. He lowered himself down closer over Mello's back, his face pointing the same direction as Mello's, almost touching. His tongue traced a cold line down Mello's scar.]

"Cronies," you call them. Just what were you doing, M, instead of acting as a detective trained to be L?