subversion | [private] once you think you're in you're out.

Yeah, I guess. Kind of biblical- fear my wrath, the righteous shall live, the unrighteous shall perish that the world might be safe again. Except he also kills the FBI agents that go after him, and the detectives, and the newscasters and political figures who didn't like him.

And ... the guy who took his seat on the bus, the people he didn't like in school, the next-door neighbour's yappy dog? Am I right?

[The words are joking, his tone isn't.]

Actually, I think he was too self-righteous for that. You know? Delusions of Godhood. He'd wave it in your face that he didn't.

Hm. [It's more moody than thoughtful.] Bad logic, rotten logic. He wouldn't do it because he didn't want to, but - because he didn't want to be seen doing it.

[Light's not exactly unfamiliar with that triumph of appearances over substance.]

Although, it could all be bullshit, I could be projecting, he could seriously be Jesus or something.

Because he was known for his body count, Jesus.

*She glances at him and ends up laughing, because she wasn't expecting it of him.*

[Some of the tension dissolves from around his eyes; his voice softens a touch.]

Well, yes. But you know what I mean.

Do I want to know - [measured, as if he's easing the question out with his fingertips] - how many people we're talking about?

A few hundred thousand. I don't know the number at this point. I try not to think about it.

[At that, his head tips down, and his hair scatters into his face; he mumbles. Some of the seams are splitting inside him.]

No, I didn't do that. I didn't. I mean, why would I ever do that?

I know. I can tell.

[He rubs at his eyes; they sting.]

This is so stupid. I should never have known about any of this.

Light, babe, you shouldn't panic. You know about it, I fucked it.

[Wry self-disgust.]

[A bit of a tense glare, over his hand, through his hair: don't call me that, you don't know me.]

Was he good?

[Still half-panicked, but just as wry.]

I know.

[Don't call him that. But she'd rather see him irritated than panicked.]

Best I'd ever had. That's the part that really makes me want to cry.

Mmm, that hasn't improved my opinion of him.

[It's a weird twist of threat and transferred flattery and sympathy and shame; like so much, he doesn't quite know what to feel. A finger settles across his eyes.]

But, honestly, you don't seem as if you wouldn't get the psychology of it.

Enlighten me? Because I was expecting to lie back and think of England.

That's often the attraction, isn't it? As we were saying before. Something you shouldn't want, something bad for you. Dangerous.

[More detached than anything else.]

Smart, mean, dangerous?

[Yeah, she has a type.]

Was that how it was?

[Part of him would like to be thought of that way. "Smart" would be a beginning.]

Yeah. Can we stop talking about it for a bit?

[She's watching him.]

Tell me something about your world, please. The differences.

Of course we can. I'm sorry.

[He glances back up, meets her eye, looks down again.]

Differences. No Kira. Other than that - it's hard to say, you know? It's just the world.

Are you trying to be a police officer?

[Something blinks across his face, some harsh, frozen disbelief that's there and gone again; on the spot, he can't believe she's mentioned it.]

Why would you say that?

-sorry, I'm going to have a really difficult time remembering what I do and don't know about you.

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