Light sighed anxiously, tapping his fingers on a glossy black table.
He sat at the foot of the table, the door opposite him, behind the chair where Hades was to sit. He hadn't the slightest idea why the door was behind the master's chair, but then again, something seemed to tell him that it was absolutely necessary.
He glanced around the room, and the black ivory busts in the corners stared at him with cold eyes. Dead eyes.
"Where is she..." he muttered, slightly weirded out by the fact that he could've sworn he saw one of the busts move.
He shook it off and a slender girl with a black braid tiptoed into the large hall, placed a manila folder on the end of the table opposite Light, and said simply, "The Master will be in soon to talk to you."
Light sighed again, inwardly this time. Hades was never on time.
...And when he was, he was usually angry.
It just so happened that Light's watch had died-- the Underworld sucks energy from electrical things, didn't you know that?
Anyhow, his watch wasn't correct, and Hades was, indeed, on time.
And he was angry.
Very angry.