Author's note: Wow. I go to sleep for eight hours and wake up with so many reviews... you guys make me feel so special. I've been getting a few people saying that Light posing nude is a bit out of character for him, but I don't think it is, really. First, while Light is too polite to talk about it out in the open, he still knows a lot about sex and relationships (he does, after all, go to high school). He's also not at all ashamed of his body—he rather prides himself on his appearance. He's also posing for an art class. Like Ms. Jun says, it's art, not porn, so he feels it's worth the pay. He's not shouting to the rooftops about it, either, though—he didn't feel the need to tell his mother that he was sitting nude in front of a dozen art students.

January 25th, 2004

The modeling agency was brightly painted, brightly lit, and had a smell of hairspray that permeated all the way to the waiting room. Light immediately disliked the place. It had none of the serene peace of the art classroom, and the people in it were interested in superficial beauty and making money off of an unattainable ideal.

Why had he agreed to this, again?

Because I only have $480 of the $4,500 for Sherlock's training, Light scolded himself slightly.

He approached the reception desk slowly. The woman raised an eyebrow at him and blew a large, purple bubblegum bubble in lieu of a greeting. "I'm here to see-" Damn it, the woman had never given him her surname, and it hadn't been on the generic agency business card. "Mei."

The woman rolled her eyes, lingering a little on Light's collar bone before turning to her computer and pecking at a few keys. Light felt a little bit violated. The woman popped her gum. "Moon Yagami?" She drawled questioningly. Her voice was surprisingly deep and gravelly.

"Light Yagami," Light corrected, having no real hope that she would get it right.

"Right, whatever. Mei's down that hall, room 104 B. Door should be open." She gestured vaguely to the right, then turned in her chair and began to poke keys in a very self-important manner. Light couldn't help but think that it must be a little but painful for her, considering the fact that each of her nails was at least two inches long. Rolling his shoulders slightly, as if to dislodge the memory of how unpleasant the woman was, Light strolled down the hallway and into room 104 B.

This room was painted a rather neutral beige—better than the sunshine yellow of the reception room, but the shade gave the room a washed-out, dull feeling. The stark white backdrop of a small set didn't help. Off to the side of the room was a messy desk covered with scattered papers, coffee cups, and a precariously balanced laptop computer that was making an ominous whirring noise as Mei tapped furiously on it. She looked up as Light entered the room, and quickly removed her glasses with a slightly embarrassed flush.

Light briefly thought that she looked better with them on, more innocent, but decided not to tell her this. It did him no good to give her more ammunition to manipulate people with. Mei might not be a bad person, but she certainly wasn't a saint.

"Light!" She glanced at her watch. "Right on time."

"Punctuality is the stern virtue of men of business." Light shucked his shoulder bag on a free chair.

"And the graceful courtesy of princes," Mei finished the last part of the quote, which Light had omitted. "Fancy yourself a prince, Light?"

Light hummed. "I'm almost impressed that you're familiar with that. Almost. I would like to remind you, however, that as soon as you sign this contract, you will have to refer to me as Yagami or Mr. Yagami at all times."

Mei grimaced. "You really don't like me, do you?"

Light smiled charmingly. "Not one bit."

Mei shrugged and grinned, completely unconcerned. "Oh well. Matters not, so much as I get what I want. Where's my pen?... Ah, here." She took up the contract and signed in the designated places with a dramatic flourish.

She handed it to Light with a sarcastic smile, and Light resisted the urge to just rip up the contract and leave so he'd never have to deal with this woman ever, ever again. He signed.

"Brilliant, Mr. Yagami!"

"Ms. Mochizuki," Light acknowledged smugly, sliding the papers back to her. She grimaced playfully and tossed the contract onto her desk, where it promptly slid into another pile of tea-stained papers.

"Right. Okay, pictures! Go ahead and drag that stool over while I set up the lights..."

Light did not like this sort of modeling at all. It was terribly, terribly bright, and Light was forced to power up his greatest acting skills to show anything but irritation. He was alone in an uncomfortable room with an irritatingly stubborn woman, having pictures taken. He focused on Sherlock. It was all for Sherlock...

Sherlock, who had been given to him by L.

Who hadn't been in contact in 25 days.

"Ooh, great glare. Kind of scary, actually. Hope that's not for me."

Light ignored the woman. She wasn't complaining, so he'd stew in his anger for a little while. He clenched his knuckles. He had promised...

"Whew! Okay, that's it!" She said, smiling brightly and puttering back to her computer. "I'd like you to stay around a bit longer while I touch up the pictures a little bit so I can put your information in the computer."

Light shrugged. "It's your $300."

Mei grimaced. "Don't remind me."

Light flipped through his school books for an hour or so until Mei beckoned him over to have him look over the pictures. "You don't actually get any input," she said lightly, "but I wanted to show off to you a little."

Light hummed, disinterested. The pictures were fairly good, he supposed. He didn't really think that these pictures would amount to anything, so it didn't matter, in the end. "What information do you want from me?"

She pulled up a spread sheet and nibbled on a pencil as she scrolled through it. "Name, age, address, phone, e-mail, the works."

"You already have my name," Light said, bored. "And clearly you didn't read that contract carefully enough, because I am under no obligation to give you any of that information."

Mei stared blankly at him. "How am I supposed to contact you?"

Light scoffed. "You don't seem to have a problem with disturbing me at home."

"I wouldn't have to," she argued, "if you gave me your cell number."

"No," Light said firmly. "It's not an issue that is open for discussion. I have arranged this e-mail." He handed her a slip of paper with a generic e-mail address on it. "My cell phone will be notified immediately when I receive an e-mail from your work e-mail, and only from your work e-mail. You may arrange things with me through this."

Mei scoffed. "Paranoid, much?"

"It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you, Ms. Mochizuki," Light said, smiling a small, bitter smile.

Mei Mochizuki shivered a little as the young man wandered out of her studio. Maybe, she thought, it was better that she didn't know.