"It's your glass house, not mine-and last I checked, we were still outside it. Straightening up, he smiled and gestured toward the rooftop greenhouse. Ryuk would say I'm no harder to kill than anyone else, Light thought, but he doubted that would put Near’s mind at ease. "Being hard to kill doesn’t require you to make your life more difficult, Light." "One flight of stairs isn't going to kill me, and you're the one who wanted me to get exercise. There's nothing shameful in admitting your limits. "My offer to build an elevator stands," said Near. Self-conscious, he pushed himself forward anyway, only pausing to wheeze once he reached the top. Light’s scarred lungs strained as he climbed to the roof, as if his ribs were a steel trap inside his chest. "This is what I get for wanting your company. If you ever try to put me in a collar again, I'll destroy every stick of furniture I can reach." "You make it sound like you brought a leash." Wispy hairs rose on Light's neck and arms, but he hid his concern behind a smile. "I thought you might want to go for a walk." That's all " Near toyed with a long lock of hair, his shoulders hunched. "Lidner and Gevanni are away on an assignment, and Rester's running errands. I don’t understand how he can stand it, but somehow, it suits him. Light had offered to tie it back for him more than once, but Near insisted he preferred to leave it loose. Since Libra’s death, for reasons he refused to explain, the detective had stopped cutting his hair entirely, and the unruly cascade now reached the small of his back. The pale detective shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, looking up at Light through a tattered curtain of white hair. The heavy door swung open with a click, and he lowered his hands at once. Unable to suppress a smile, Light walked out into the entryway, raising his hands to prove he was unarmed.
Even through the metal door of Light's enclosure, his visitor's voice was unmistakable. I haven't had much interest in drawing lately, but I seem to have free time. Though far from expert, they were recognizable, each one displaying a familiar scene or person from his past. Annoyed, he tossed the book aside and stood, looking up at the ring of sketches that lined his living room wall.
He turned another page of his borrowed book, straining and failing to focus on the words. I take Julia her dinner at six, and Near promised me a Go game at eight.
Today, Light’s boredom was a far more ordinary sort: nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one but himself to entertain him. It wasn't the hauty, teenage ennui of his pre-Kira days, nor the grim, terrifying monotony of his early confinement.
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