[Misa opens her mouth to comment on how terrible it is that someone was killed, but with the employee's interruption that train of thought shuts off and all she can think of is L. Why does it sound so familiar? There's something, the fuzzy ghost of a memory--she doesn't recall when or where she witnessed it, but it's there. An ornate, black letter 'L' broadcasting across her TV screen. A scrambled, digitized voice. It said something, what was... the voice was L, and it said... 'I am justice.']

L...

[In her preoccupation with the hazy memory her hand loosens, and Misa absently draws it out of her purse (leaving weapon and phone behind). Answers are what matter most. Throwing caution to the wind is all part of being a serious journalist.]

[Looking up, Misa squints at Lazarus's face as if seeing him for the first time.]

I know that name... You're L?