Despite the pop-culture rock he's lived under all his adult life, Light didn't manage to escape its trivialities while he was growing up. So when the kitchen door slams behind him, and he steps into a rolling green landscape dotted with colourful plastic flowers and windmills, and populated exclusively by tame rabbits, he knows exactly where he is
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"Why does it look like a two-year-old just threw up in here?"
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Someone has a sense of humour. I assure you this wasn't my idea.
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[It's expansive. Overhead, the baby screeches: Light doesn't quite flinch: it hadn't seemed as if you knew about him last time, so is that just a holdover from the exchange of insults?]
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He'd been clued in thanks to a few aquaintances.
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Don't you know? Or do you come from one of the places where you never got your hands on one?
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Ignoring the urge to shoot the bunnies... and the flowers.... and everything that moves.
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[As far as Light's concerned, taking out his world's Mello was one of the best things he ever did. As for you, more and more, he's certain he knows what you did. And will do.]
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[It's comforting that, even in such a saccharine setting, Lights and Mellos are never going to be friends.]
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[It sounds utterly convincing - except perhaps for the glint in his eye - but he knows who you've probably been talking to. The cover is its own reward.]
But I don't need to wear myself on the outside like a peacock. I know what I am.
[Ironic, coming from someone who takes so much trouble with his clothes.]
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His eyes thinned.
"Excuse me for having a social life that extends beyond brainless celebrities."
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Better that than the thugs you surrounded yourself with. Did you even care what they were?
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