[Light was sleeping when the shockwave hit. It's deep, childlike, just as it always is: the sleep of the innocent, or the truly psychopathic. Except that as the wave creeps over him with tenuous fingers, remaking and rewiring him, out of the corners of his mind scuttle ... spiders. Some tiny, some the size of a fist, on black, spiny legs. Some are
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[It's a lie, and Ishida will more than know it - waves of horrified guilt that stem from the top floor like a siren.]
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Why do you care?
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[He places emphasis on the alias- he's heard what L had said just now. He's a little disappointed that Light had not revealed L's name in turn, but one could not have everything all at once.]
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I'm not your plaything, Ishida. Find yourself a spider to pull the legs off, or a kitten to microwave.
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[He's being completely serious about this- he's talking about Szayel, the Octava Espada.]
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[The recording shuts off with a snarky click. Murders are the last thing Light cares to discuss.]
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