I honestly change fandoms so much it's not even funny

He's still snickering to himself as he retreats to his own quarters within Castle Bleck. Mr. L lifts his hand to wipe away a fake tear, not that anyone would be around to see it, and snickers once more, muttering "junior minions" with substantial mirth. Their faces had been too much, the shock and anger in their expressions simply too amusing to ignore, and Mr. L had happily taken advantage of that. Sure, that wouldn't exactly get him on their good side, but what does he care? After this entire thing with the Void, he doubts he'll ever see them again.

Shutting his door behind him with a firm shove and locking it behind him, Mr. L flops forward onto his bed. He lets out a disgruntled sound, and then flips onto his back, simultaneously removing his cap to place it on the bedside table next to him. He crosses his arms over his chest; there's no point in getting undressed anyway – it's not like he has any other clothes and now that he's lying down he doesn't particularly feel like getting up again.

Mr. L closes his eyes, relaxes his shoulders, and lets out a sigh. A moment later, his arms flop to his sides. He feels strangely exhausted, but he doesn't have any clear memories of overexerting himself that day…

"Haven't I told you it's bad for your back to fall asleep like that?"

His eyes snap open, but instead of the sight of the ceiling, he finds himself hunched over a desk. He has a moment to wonder what in the fresh hell is going on, and then something – or someone, even – leans over and shadows his vision. It's a young man dressed in red, with bright blue eyes, and Mr. L blinks. The man's hands are on his hips, his body language showing that he isn't very impressed with Mr. L, but there's a small smile on his face, partially obscured by a moustache.

"Come on." The man holds out a hand. "Let's get you to bed."

"I'm fine," he responds without much thought, and recoils at the whining tone in his voice. What the hell?

The man laughs, and then moves to help Mr. L to his feet. "I'm just making sure," the man says, brushing off his prior remark without much difficulty, and then tugs at Mr. L's arm.

He frowns to himself when his body responds without him wanting it to, and he finds himself following this man for no reason whatsoever. Who does this guy think he is, dragging around the Green Thunder? But it gives him ample time to study his surroundings, which is…some sort of study? On a board close to the door he's being led to, he can see multiple schematics of machines pinned up. Studying them closer, he can clearly tell they're not weapons. What the fuck?

The man looks back at him again, and chuckles. "Come on. You can continue your work tomorrow," Mr. L opens his mouth to interject, "after a good night of sleep. Sometimes you're worse than me, bro."

Bro?!

He wants to wrench his arm out of this man's grasp, to yell, to ask what the fuck is going on, but his body won't respond. It feels like he's a spectator in his own body.

The man leads him through the open doorway, and Mr. L trips on nothing, careening through air into the light, shielding his face from the impact-

And then suddenly he's sitting up in bed.

Mr. L blinks. He looks down at himself, and then left and right. He's back in Castle Bleck.

He sighs, and that's when the door opens (hadn't he locked that?). Nastasia stands there, informs him of a meeting in the next few minutes, and she leaves. Mr. L stares at the door for a few moments longer, and then twists his body and gets to his feet. He reaches blindly for his hat and places it on its proper place upon his head, shifting around with it for a moment to make sure it's straight, and makes his way towards the door. That dream, or hallucination, or whatever shit that had been, had been just that: a dream. It wasn't real. That man was clearly some weird figment of his imagination. He was nothing.

And as Mr. L treks through the halls of Castle Bleck, he tries to ignore the warm, phantom grip that he can still feel on his arm.