No Beta.

Ryuga was staring at her.

Light was avoiding eye contact.

Harry sighed, absently tapping her fingers against the slightly sticky surface of the table they were currently seated at, lips pursed musingly. Around them, the cafe bustled loudly with customers, rushing in and out of the cold. Slowly, her head tilted. She'd be frank and just nip it in the bud, she decided.

"I'm not interested." She said clearly, though not unkindly.

Ryuga hums over his ridiculously creamed coffee, dark eyes glazed. Light continued to look uncomfortable, somehow making it look natural. Harry's eyes shot to him. "Why are you here?"

"What?"

Harry's fingers flick meaningfully around her Styrofoam coffee cup. "I mean, why are you hanging out with him? No offence."

"I was wondering why Light-san had followed me." Ryuga mused, picking up a sugar packet and tearing it open.

Lithe shoulders shrug. "Babysitting."

"Ah."

Cream slurps. "The probability of me getting into any extenuating circumstances and thus needing a 'sitter' is less than eighty-eight point seven percent."

Harry and Light share a darting glance.

Ryuga bites his thumb as he carefully tips the fine granules into his sludge. "Though, that's still remarkably high, I suppose."

Then they all go back to awkwardly not staring at each other, accept for Ryuga of course, because he was an odd duck who didn't understand (or care) about social niceties.

Harry moves to stand, smiling brightly. "Well. This has been fun."

Her head was still killing her and those damned red numbers kept flickering.

Ryuga's hazy look suddenly comes into focus, face serious over the top of his coffee cup. "I would like to offer you a job, Potter-san."

Harry pauses, nose wrinkling, one booted leg pointed towards the exit.

She bites her lip. "I... don't really...?"

He leans forward, knees bunching closer to his chest in what Harry is now starting to realize is his default sitting position. "Come back to the hotel with us. We have something to show you."

Her eyebrows rise to her hairline, incredulous.

A smack and she looks over to see Light rubbing a hand down his face, his forehead blotched from where his palm connected. Releasing a long sigh, he shifts uncomfortably in his hard-backed seat before shaking his head and finally making direct eye contact.

"He doesn't mean it like that."

Her lips quirk downward and her hand tightens around her still nearly full cup.

Ryuga's gaze flickers to Light as he tears open yet another sugar packet.

"Of course I do. We have something very important to show her."

A pained look crosses Lights face, back hunching and voice coming out in an embarrassed choke. "I am so sorry."

Harry scowls, angling her body more firmly towards the cafe doors and crossing her arms to hold each elbow.

Her green eyes narrow. "Are you propositioning me?"

A blink.

"Yes."

A pause.

"For a job."

Harry stands up. "Aaaand that's a hard pass."

"Are you familiar with the Occult, Potter-san?"

She can't help the flinch, nor the tightening of her jaw. Across the room a waitress trips over nothing and the glasses balanced on her tray fly off and shatter when they meet the floor. Harry ignores her, jerking in place to flip her fuzzy hood back over her wild hair.

Light stares at the mess, the sharp, industrial-grade plastic glinting accusingly. But Ryugas intent gaze hasn't moved from her form, teeth biting intently on the flesh of his thumb once again.

Harry takes a breath. "What."

"Because of the abridged Latin in your notebook."

"It's just a hobby." She bites out, "And it's really creepy that you know that."

Light makes a humming noise in the back of his throat, pulling his cup closer to take a languid sip. He's watching her now as well.

Harry silently swears, ears warming. Overreacting because of migraine. Really, Harry?

Ryuga pitches back in his chair. "Judging by the Scandinavian runes and short-hand Latin written in your note book, as well as the spontaneous oddities that happen in your immediate presence, you are either psychic or involved in the Occult. Which it is remains to be seen."

Harry rolls her eyes as she impatiently shoves her clenched fist into her jacket pocket, other hand white-knuckled around her coffee as she puffs out some air to get a strand of faux-fur out of her face. "You odd little man."

The side of his mouth lifts. "But not the oddest."

Harry huffs. "Look, I don't know what you're getting at, but-"

He cuts her off. "It's about the Kira Case."

Her scowl deepens, teeth grinding even as her mind whirls. "If this is your way of asking me to do the ethics project with you, you have a really weird way of going about it."

He waives a pale hand dismissively."It's much more serious than that."

Harry rocks on the balls of her feet, itching to get away. She shakes her head. "You're kinda freaking me out, so-"

"I am L."

Harry stops breathing, wide-eyed and speechless. Blood blooms in her mouth where she's bitten her tongue.

Of course he blithely carries on. "And I think you can help me with the Kira Case."

Of all the-

"You know where liars go, right?"

Another hum from the left. "Revelation 21:8."

"Yes, thank you, Light-san. Though I rather doubt I'm going to hell in this instance."

Light smoothes down the end of his scarf before taking another sip of his coffee. "Debatable."

Ryuga tilts his head it that bird-like way of his. "I wouldn't be pointing fingers at my moral scruples if I were you."

Pissed and thoroughly freaked out, Harry bends down for the groceries at her feet and twist towards the cafe exit.

Something stops her and she glances down at the pale hand reaching across the table to grip her arm. Sugar graduals fleck on her scarlet coat. "Stay Potter-san. I insist."

She jerks out of his grip, glaring. "No."

Dark eyes stare out at her from behind equally dark bags. He tisks. "Will you at least listen to what I have to say?"

"No. I don't know, nor do I care what this is. I'm not helping you and I'm definitely not going anywhere with you. Stay away from me, Ryuga, or whoever you say you are. Got it? Back off."

Then she rushes out.

Back in the cafe, L takes a large gulp of his coffee. He sighs.

"I think she took it rather well."

Light closes his eyes and rubs at the bridge of his nose. "You sounded like a stalker, L."

"Irrelevant."

"Embarrassing is what it is."

"I suppose it was embarrassing. She is rather odd."

There is another smacking noise as a hand meets a face.

Harry runs into the house, breathless, and slams the front door with finality.

James hums from couch, lanky legs thrown over the armrest, blue eyes focused on the game in his hands. "Much drama. Too many, too many."

Harry storms the kitchen, dumping the bags of groceries and tearing off her boots, coat and gloves as she snaps back. "Shut up dweeve! Make yourself useful and put this crap away."

"Tyrant!" James quips, unconcerned.

Harry, beyond caring, rushes up the staircase to her bedroom.

"I'm going back to bed," a pause, "where I can die in peace!"

A door slams.

"You COW!"

"Love you too!"

"I love me three!"

"DAD! Stop siding with her!"

"What? What did I say?"