[That, it does. Thing is: Mello doesn't accept favors. They always lead to owing down the line, anyway. And he refuses to owe Kira, of all people. The fact that he agreed to this meeting in the first place is born of sheer, morbid curiosity. Nothing more.]

[He listen's to the devil's smooth, silver tongue in silence, observing the other's every nuance. Commits every detail to memory. The cut of his jaw, the way his eyes move when he speaks, down to the last strand of hair. The public pictures he'd seen of Light for scholarly accomplishments are extremely similar, but they were just that: pictures. The real thing?]

[M thinks he understands, now.]

[Finally, he responds.]

I don't take handouts. [The slightest of shrugs.] If you're going to teach me anything of use, it's only safe to assume you'll require assistance at some point.

[And I'll betray you.]

You've already said it: your wish is for this world to possess more powerful witches to go up against the bigger threat. [Whatever that is. Ah, the server. He places two glasses of water down — one in front of each of them — and Mello initially barely hears the question as to whether or not they're ready to order. He's too busy assessing his enemy made flesh.]

So. [That said.] You're going to need me, yea? Sounds like a transaction to me.

I don't know how I plan to use it, but I have no intention of hurting others, no. [Except for you] I've just arrived here; my goal is to gain income and a purpose. Everything else comes later.

[And it's a damn good thing he's wearing those glasses. He'll let Light order first, of course. Isn't that what any proper gentleman would do?]