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It's been five days since Light (last) blew up at Matt. Three since he found she'd been eaten by As, and dragged into their problem with that one B - except, it's all of their problem, isn't it, a killer on the loose? It doesn't mean Light wouldn't like, please, to have been involved less directly.

Two days that he's spent kind-of sort-of hoping he'll get the opportunity to shout at her. One since he ended up with another B, mad in all kinds of different ways, who'd known things. I wonder if I'll find her first.

But he's not worried. Of course.

He looks his usual self; perhaps it's a loose top rather than a dress shirt, and maybe he looks as if he didn't get much sleep, but that's not exactly unusual. Something is cut in half on the table in front of him; it looks almost like a jam doughnut.

[[OOC: private to

onlydisappear.]]

It's the middle of the afternoon, and the sleeping tablets only wore off an hour ago. Light is sitting at the kitchen table, arguing with an instant noodle cup thing, and a cup of tea - genmaicha, since there's nobody else around. It smells like popcorn.

He looks exhausted. The scratches and bites and bruises are tucked beneath a scarf of thin cream wool - an odd sight in the mansion - and his hair isn't quite as sleek as usual - it's rougher, just a little disorganised, a bit more like that of his evil infinitwins.

No, it isn't the same kitchen, or the same table.

[[OOC: private to

onlydisappear. Backdated to the afternoon of the 22nd.]]