Light woke up angry, which was at least familiar.
He came off the ground in one motion with his hand already closing on the sword he'd gone down holding, and I let him keep it, because I have discovered over the years that taking anything off this man is the fastest way to make him want it.
He got halfway upright, found the wall with his shoulder, and stayed there.
I stayed sitting. The last few times this man had been on his feet he had tried to open my throat, and then, once, he hadn't, and I had not finished deciding what to do about that.
"You knocked me out."
"Twice." I spat blood onto the stone between my boots and watched it not go anywhere. "You're welcome."
He put a hand to the back of his neck where I'd chopped him and worked his jaw around, and even filthy, even with his hair hanging in strings and a knee I'd put a dagger through, he still found a way to do it elegantly. That is the single most irritating thing about Light. He is elegant while losing.
