Misa is quiet. Slowly, she moves her hand off of his knee, folding both in her lap. She stares ahead, mind racing to put together an explanation for this that isn't terrible.

"He's wrong," she says at length, confident but without any evidence to prove it. "I would never fall in love with a mass-murderer. I had an echo before... my Other's parents were killed too, except she was there to see it. She watched. I saw it." Misa blinks back tears as the gory images spring to mind unbidden, and looks up at Lazarus desperately. "So there's no way she would ever love a killer."