The first time he ever meet you, you were a teenager around the age of 15 or 16 with clear goals and a realistically optimistic opinion of the world. He remembered it almost as well he remembered his own name.
He had returned to Wammy’s House to give advice to the kids who were now being taught to follow in his footsteps and to visit Mr. Wammy to discuss the next case for him to go on, these two events managed to fill most of his day and evening had quickly descended upon the house. But, as usual, his sweet tooth wasn’t satisfied with waiting to get its fix so he found himself heading towards the kitchen, halting mid-step and he noticed the light in the room where he was headed was on. Continuing towards his destination, he opened the door to the room slowly to reveal a teenage girl sat on the countertop with [h/c] hair, consuming an apple and a drink of some sort.
“You know that sitting on that counter means food prepared on it is