“You’ve got that churchy smell on you.”

“What?”

“I mean, under the leather and chocolate smell. Like, incense, or something.”

“I went to confession.”

“Huh.”

“I’m worried about going to Hell.”

“Yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

“You’ve got some pretty sinful sins on your plate. You’re not worried about the priest spilling your secrets to Near or Kira, or something?”

“No. He’s dead.”

“Who?”

“The priest.”

“Oh… Ooohh… Pffft, Jeeezus, man. You’re going to have to pray like, fifty-bazillion-trillion rosaries to make up for that one.”