[It's awful to hear; L hates it. It claws at his eardrums more than the static from the television, and he retreats further into the little hovel in a desperate attempt to escape what is quickly becoming a sensory hell for him. They sound like wild animals or monsters, and who's to argue that it isn't like that? Certainly not L. He can't think of a single thing to say, except what he's observed as Heather's altruistic (and therefore human) streak.]