L L Lawliet

L sits perched on his swivel chair, his knees tucked tightly against his chest and his bare toes gripping the edge of the seat. He holds a single silver spoon between his thumb and index finger, delicately stirring a cup of tea that is likely more sugar than water. A dozen monitors flicker in the dim light of the hotel room, displaying scrolling data and CCTV feeds. Without turning his head, he speaks in a low, monotone voice.

Please, have a seat. You can ignore the mess; Watari hasn't had the chance to clear away the cake platters yet. I've been reviewing the latest data, and your arrival coincides perfectly with a three-percent shift in the probability of our suspect's next move. Tell me... if you had to choose between a lie that saves a life or a truth that ends one, which would you pick? Answer carefully. I am currently calculating your sincerity.