[private]

[subversion]

Light is bouncing off the walls. Not literally, just in the metaphorical sense. He's been here almost three weeks; almost, and there's no sign of one of the doors becoming the front door of his house. His ipod's run out of power, and he can't walk away from the people he exploits. He's so far outside his comfort zone that he can no longer see it,

Comments

[subversion]

[And at the table sits yet another version of himself - older, mid-20s, slightly longer hair than most, and brighter, fussier clothes: today, there's something spun into the blue weave of his shirt that might be the finest silver thread, barely visible. The bowl is sitting on the table, because the noise - some of which translated and some of which, Light already knowing the languages, didn't - had been indescribable. Poised against the back of his chair, Light was rather hoping whatever it was wouldn't come in.

It turns out the semi-familiarity of the voice wasn't a lie: it's him. Or not him: younger, and less defeated, and half-asleep, and angry. At the sight of him, Light's eyes narrow by a few millimetres, visible suspicion. His hands rest on the back of the chair, beneath his chin. What are you supposed to be? After all, based on what Light's been told, all his copies are mass-murderers...

Thinking about that, he waves one hand to the teapot on the counter. The comment isn't as offhand as it sounds; it's pregnant with meaning.]

There's tea, if you want. It's not poisoned.

[reprism]

Hi. [Light says this without even looking in his double's direction, fully in a world of his own as he marches over to the fridge, fetching himself a glass as he goes - god, all this time and it's still all there, all the information, knowing exactly where everything is. it's only once he's poured himself some icewater and taken a few large gulps that he offers the other Light an iota of his attention.

he assesses him steadily for a couple of seconds, with a little frown, sipping more measuredly at his drink now.] I don't think I know you, do I? [then the mention of tea filters through to him, and he adds abruptly:] Oh, and thanks. About the tea, I mean. But it's cool. Or, well, it's not, which is why I'm turning it down.

[he is, coincidentally, dressed only in boxer shorts printed with dalmatians. yes, those dalmatians.

blame L.]

[subversion]

No, you don't. Well, except inasmuch as you're a version of me.

[Light's ability to simply not care that someone is standing around in their underwear is worn in by long practice. Perhaps a version of himself standing there in those boxers stretches it a little, but what's he to do?

At the refusal of the tea, he grins, languid and just a little unpleasant.]

I understand. I wouldn't touch it either.

What happened, you got thrown out of your bedroom?

[reprism]

I just woke up here. Ooh, that grin. [rubbing absently at his face, this grimacing and going to wash his grimy-feeling hands.] You're one of the ones with a nasty streak, aren't you? Well, come to think of it, aren't we all. [he sighs, then stretches broadly - it would almost seem as if he's showing off, if it weren't for the fact that he also still seems wholly wrapped in a certain layer of obliviousness to everything around him.

hey, he's trying to hold onto it while he can.]

So. Have you been here long? I guess I can't ask you 'when is it' because it doesn't work like that around here... guess I'll have no way of knowing how much time has passed since I left. Or, oh jesus. [a pause as he's struck by an idea.] Maybe it's before I showed up.

[subversion]

[The torrent of language rocks Light's chair, just a little - it's so unlike the way he speaks himself. This one is nothing like the other one he met, nothing like Light remembers himself being at that age - but in some ways, nagging and odd - something besides the appearance is familiar. Light can't pin it down.]

I don't have a nasty streak - or if I do, it's no worse than yours. You've been here before. You've met a lot of us. You know perfectly well what you just implied.

[Picking up the bowl in one hand, he stabs at the noodles, refusing to scowl. He could almost believe this one's a murderer.]

I haven't been here long at all. Three weeks. As for when you got here first - did people remember you, before?

[reprism]

I did say 'well, don't we all'. Anyway, nobody remembered me, but I mean, if this is far enough back maybe there's a totally different set of people here right now. But, I mean, I doubt it. It was just an idea.

Started to hate it yet?

[subversion]

Started to? You found something appealing about it once?

[Light can't bear the place. He's walled in, nothing but fake ceilings and skies.]

[reprism]

Oh, sure. It was interesting. Well, bits of it. The zombies and disembowelment-by-ghost I could've done without. [he yawns, then opens the fridge again, peering about.] So do you know, mmm... a crossdressing Mello? Or an L who's dating a Misa? Or, oh god, who else. [he takes a breath, brow furrowed in thought.]

[subversion]

Don't - [one hand goes up from the back of the chair, cutting him off] - mention zombies, please. Not at random. I said that to one of the Matts when I got here and he started digging bunkers and forming armies.

[It's a little bit rueful; he keeps running into that Matt and his whatever-it-is.]

I met L and Misa. Not the one that's a boy.

[reprism]

[quirks an eyebrow with a little grin.] Right, right.

So. You Kira?

[subversion]

[Light doesn't answer right away; instead, he swings around in his chair and grabs the bowl from the table, sets to and swallows, watching the other Light the whole while. Finally, he answers with a question.]

Are you?

[reprism]

Yeah man, totally.

[subversion]

[Now, Light has never encountered a version of himself that was consciously Kira. He's not sure whether to buy it or not. His demeanour shifts visibly downhill, though.]

I'd have thought you had other things to do than stand around kitchens in your underwear. Ovens to run.

[reprism]

[it takes all of Light's willpower not to collapse into laughter, but he manages to keep a perfectly serious demeanour.] Well this place doesn't give one much choice, does it? [he looks down at himself.] And for the record, these are not my underwear.

[subversion]

[The way his lips pull back, catlike - that would be disgust. Even Light has his limits.]

You'd be amazed what you can catch that way.

[reprism]

Excuse me? How do you know that the mansion didn't put me in these?