An interest in justice, was it. That went a long way to explaining the blood on Light's hands; so was every offensive war justified by those prosecuting it. Myr tucks that thought away alongside a fleeting one on how odd and incomplete L's own notions of justice were. How well had he aligned with Light in them?

"Something like how I got embroiled with him. He's a talent for that, it seems."

One of those long ears follows twitches toward the sound of footsteps as Light approaches the hall; the courtesy the younger man shows in not blocking it entirely is definitely noticed. As is the accuracy of Light's observation--one Myr's not at all surprised by, even as he feigns a grimace and presses a hand to his heart. Touché. "That obvious, huh?" he says, lightly, before dropping the pose and picking up another towel to find a place for.

"I am worried, serah; you're a new factor in our lives and we Fauns spend a lot of time tiptoeing around new things before we're sure of them." Not in the least bit a lie, even if it's not the truth entire.

"Though I'm heartened by your commitment to your Bond, believe me." He reaches out for another towel--doesn't find it, frowns--then feels over to locate it dangling from Crookytail's mouth. Ah, wormipedes. "Let that go," he mutters to the creature in an undertone.

Then, louder: "Though it's damned easy to do someone an unintentional hurt through them. He's told you about the instability of your particular arrangement, I assume, and the risk it puts you at."