It's a river, winding through the base of a shallow valley in spring. A cool, green smell hangs in the air. The sky is clear and blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds. It could be anywhere reasonably temperate
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[Now, Light knows the game Near - and now Mel - are playing perfectly well. And yet, and yet - they really are underestimating him, or they wouldn't want to provoke him. Idiots. Neither of them deserve what they have. Again, the image of L - the real one - flits through his head, and is gone again.]
I'm glad he tried to reassure you, Mel. A shame it didn't work.
[The knowing smile, and the unpleasant emphasis on her chosen name, are right in place.]
*The intended effect of using her name so often is so obvious that she's almost become immune to it by now. She flicks a glance at the sketchbook, as if to say unlike you, but doesn't bring it up out loud.*
[That accusing glance doesn't go unspotted. If she wants to think the book is a crutch, let her. Light knows why he has it - in fact, he thinks, it should be more than obvious.]
If you say so.
[With that, he flips the book open to a blank page, as if the conversation is done - impressions of figures and faces and settings, too fast to see anything clear - before something begins to emerge on the paper. It's eyes. Cat's eyes, wide and clear, staring.]
[No, he knows so. The rest of the face quickly takes form around the eyes: small, pointed chin, ears, half-flattened, and the whiskers - pricked forward, oddly enough.]
Are you done here, Mel? [not looking up, and this time the contempt is deliberate.] You must have things to get on with, after all.
[It's a backhanded compliment at best; the only good thing Light is ever likely to have to say for Mel is that she doesn't bore him - and he doesn't view it as a good thing.
It's not really surprising that this has gone full circle, he supposes. As she looks around for the door, he curls his lip, there and gone again. The cat, likewise, glares out of the page at him.]
She walks along, deeper in; why not, after all?, thinking that this room smells like spring in a way the one she meant to go into smells like fall.
When she sees the bench, and Yagami sitting there, she huffs, quiet and annoyed, and hopes against hope it won't draw his attention to her.*
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Interesting. He seemed to think the same thing about you.
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I'm glad he tried to reassure you, Mel. A shame it didn't work.
[The knowing smile, and the unpleasant emphasis on her chosen name, are right in place.]
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*The intended effect of using her name so often is so obvious that she's almost become immune to it by now. She flicks a glance at the sketchbook, as if to say unlike you, but doesn't bring it up out loud.*
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If you say so.
[With that, he flips the book open to a blank page, as if the conversation is done - impressions of figures and faces and settings, too fast to see anything clear - before something begins to emerge on the paper. It's eyes. Cat's eyes, wide and clear, staring.]
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*It's clear she disapproves of the subject matter, the improvement, or both.*
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[No, he knows so. The rest of the face quickly takes form around the eyes: small, pointed chin, ears, half-flattened, and the whiskers - pricked forward, oddly enough.]
Are you done here, Mel? [not looking up, and this time the contempt is deliberate.] You must have things to get on with, after all.
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You're going to make her black?
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[Shifting from the too-short bobbed tail back to the cat's face, he darkens one of the irises; the cat is odd-eyed.]
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*She frowns at the page.*
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[It doesn't stop him shading the fur, with that possessive here-and-there brush against the paper. So easy to upset her with the smallest things.]
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*The tail and the eyes, she means. Mostly.*
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[He might have chosen a breed that comes missing a tail, but the mismatched eyes are a deliberate imperfection.]
You should find something to do with your time, Mel.
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How I spend my time makes no difference to you, surely.
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It's not really surprising that this has gone full circle, he supposes. As she looks around for the door, he curls his lip, there and gone again. The cat, likewise, glares out of the page at him.]
Are we going to play this game all day?
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*She doesn't expect a straight answer.*
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