My confinement with Yagami Light has just begun when I realize that I have begun expressing my thoughts like a machine.

It is a shocking difference from my former method of rationalization. Certainly, at times I have conveyed the probability of something occurring with a number, but as of late, I continually express the rationale for my actions with percentages. More often than not, these percentages regard the probability of Light being Kira, and the actions I am rationalizing are my forced attachment of him to my wrist.

I suspect that I am overcompensating for my recent lapse in actual mechanical thoughts; the true logic behind Light's imprisonment isn't logic at all, but emotion driven certainty. To be perfectly honest, it is humiliating that I am being plagued by this intuition.

I am de-anthropomorphizing myself, am becoming something of an automaton. I do nothing all day but stare at massive amounts of Kira related data and consume sugar and win at Solitaire and drag a still shell-shocked teenager around on the other end of a six foot chain; if not for this aforementioned teenager's company, I truly think the boredom would drive me to insanity. Punctuating this mind-numbing monotony are my jabs at Light, deprecating remarks about his alleged innocence and disparaging jabs at his homicide fetish.

"Light-kun," I call one afternoon when hacking into the FBI has proved to reveal no new leads and I am lacking the motivation to delve into any deeper files. "I seem to have run out of food. Let's go to the kitchen."

"Ryuzaki," he sighs, glaring at me in irritation. "We just went there an hour ago."

I blink innocently. "Yes, that is correct, Light-kun. What are you implying?"

"How do you expect us to get any work done if we are constantly interrupted by your visits to the kitchen?"

"I find them refreshing."

"Well, I find them bothersome and counterproductive."

I drop my clueless façade in favor of a suspicious and calculating countenance. "I am tempted to raise my suspicion of your guilt by four percent." There is absolutely no significance to this number, other than perhaps its aptness considering its connotation of death.

Light doesn't seem to realize that this is a random percentage. "What?!" he exclaims furiously. "Why?"

"Because," I explain flatly, "it would be very like Kira to slowly starve me of vital sugars and decrease my deductive reasoning abilities in order to stop his secrets from being found out."

Light appears torn between frantically spluttering his incredulity and hitting me over the head with his laptop. Though both would be intensely amusing reactions, he disappoints, and does nothing but narrow his eyes and snap, "I'm not Kira. Let's get your damned cake."

I smile in delight at his irritation. "Yay," I exult passively and begin making my way towards the kitchen.

Light hurries out of his seat to avoid the embarrassment of being dragged out of it, and falls into step several feet away from me, huffing a bit in annoyance. I wonder if it is telling that this is the highlight of my day.

"I have a hankering for strawberry mochi ice cream, actually," I inform him cheerfully, pulling open the freezer door and peering inside.

"Hm."

"Would you like some as well, Light-kun?"

"No, thank you," he refuses moodily.

I cannot miss the opportunity. I tilt my head to the side and place my thumb at my mouth, feigning consideration. "Would Kira prefer the green tea variety?"

"I'm not Kira!" he thunders quite gratifyingly.

I shrug. "I guess not then." Then, as an afterthought, I add, "Sixteen percent."

"What?" he demands.

I smile quietly, placing several spheres of mochi on a plate and licking the powdered sugar off my fingertips. I'd never realized that it could be so amusing to be a machine.

Author's Note: Thanks to chibi-hime123 for her betaing skills!

Strawberry mochi ice cream is really quite good. I encourage you all to try some. :D

Oh man. We're almost at a hundred reviews. You guys are fabulous. --bear hug--