[With his fingers stayed, L's attempt to lash out at Near ultimately fails. He falls back, dark eyes heavy-lidded, panting. The fit's passed, but there will be more like it. They'll grow more intense, breaking bindings or bones, whichever gives first.]

Linden Tailor... Eli Dagwood. Linden...

[Repeating it softly and breathlessly, digging it into his grey matter like a pickaxe. The last thing on his mind is Near's unclothed state, even as he is aware; he knows what's necessary, under these bleak circumstances. He knows that neither of them have the luxury of caring about dignity or decorum.]

I keep almost losing it.

[The names. They're here, then gone; then back again, even more tenuous than before.]

If you want to try to hypnotize me, our time may be more limited than I thought.