[This building had been a miraculous discovery in a world of dilapidated buildings steadily falling disrepair. Its suspicious is what Light has concluded, but he's also low on supplies and there are better ways to die than starvation and hypothermia.
He makes his way into the interior of the building (or so he'd thought) until he's addressed directly by a stranger - a man he's never seen in is life - fiddling around by the fireplace. Instinctively his gloved fingers tighten around the rusted pipe he's taken from another house as a makeshift weapon; wandering around alone defenseless would have been unbelievably short sighted on his part and the single scrap of note he has on him is too precious to use haphazardly. If he'd been more impulsive with the death note, he'd have realized earlier on that it won't work here, but that's a future disaster waiting to unfold.
The question receives a fractionally raised eyebrow, but incredulousness gives way to bitterness as quickly as it starts. It's cold outside - colder than Light is used to in Tokyo, and any thought of "trouble" is a remote joke at best.
Perhaps it would put Kristoff at ease to see that his unexpected company was built more like a runner than a quarterback. Perhaps not; Light hasn't let go of the pipe yet.]
No. [There's a certain finality in his tone neither soothing nor aggressive, but guarded and carefully neutral.] I'm not.
no subject
He makes his way into the interior of the building (or so he'd thought) until he's addressed directly by a stranger - a man he's never seen in is life - fiddling around by the fireplace. Instinctively his gloved fingers tighten around the rusted pipe he's taken from another house as a makeshift weapon; wandering around alone defenseless would have been unbelievably short sighted on his part and the single scrap of note he has on him is too precious to use haphazardly. If he'd been more impulsive with the death note, he'd have realized earlier on that it won't work here, but that's a future disaster waiting to unfold.
The question receives a fractionally raised eyebrow, but incredulousness gives way to bitterness as quickly as it starts. It's cold outside - colder than Light is used to in Tokyo, and any thought of "trouble" is a remote joke at best.
Perhaps it would put Kristoff at ease to see that his unexpected company was built more like a runner than a quarterback. Perhaps not; Light hasn't let go of the pipe yet.]
No. [There's a certain finality in his tone neither soothing nor aggressive, but guarded and carefully neutral.] I'm not.
Are you?