empathicfault | IC Inbox

[ And that he can understand. A respect. An acknowledgment of what had been done there- no, what had been accomplished. Chiyoh knew what she was capable of, then. And so did Will.

He bites his lip, as he remembers the glass, the snails, the trembling orange of the candlelight. The way he chose mostly natural materials, because that's what he likes.

His shoulders slide back and he stops looking like he's expecting to fight an invisible monster. His breathing evens out. ]

I made him into a firefly. To acknowledge what we'd done, together, there. I think, that's when I actually knew.

[ Will looks up at Shaw, finally. ]

I wasn't trying to cut Hannibal out. I was seeking him out. Because I love him.

[... Ah.

Well, whatever she'd expected, it hadn't quite been that; her eyebrows even jump a little at the revelation. But that said, it doesn't not make sense.]

Okay.

[She says, studying him carefully.]

You weren't sure who you were gonna be when you got this back. How're you feeling about that now?

[ It felt strange to say it outright like that, after years of incremental denials, then resigned acceptance, then joyful but silent acceptance. And he realizes that if he ever sees Hannibal again, he's going to have to say it to that smug, infuriating face.

He doesn't exactly smile, but everything in his body language has relaxed. He looks around his cabin as he thinks about just 'how he is feeling'. He scritches Winston behind the ears, and the dog's tail thumps against the couch. ]

I feel like things make more sense, now. There's 'losing myself', and then there's 'not wanting to acknowledge what I already am'. I was doing the latter.

Okay. And what are you, besides a man who's in love with Hannibal?

I am unconstrained.

[She just raises an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for more. Come on, Will; "unconstrained" can mean a lot of things. Details.]

[ He stares back at her for a moment, then sighs a bit. ]

If I ask you what you are, how do you respond? With your jobs? Your condition? Your moral code?

Sure, all of the above. Me, I'd pick that kind of thing over an adjective.

How did you get all of those? How did you choose your jobs, how did you choose the code you live by?

Influence from my parents. A desire to help people and make society better.

[That eyebrow is only arching higher.]

You finding your way to a point?

I'm trying.

[ His mouth pulls back into a line, almost an apologetic smile. He knows that this is annoying, but it's what he's got.

He decides to swerve a bit for something most people find more straight-forward. Not any less honest but focused more specifically on him. ]

Me, it was all my condition. All doctors and what I can handle and what I couldn't. It ruined my father's life, it ruined my life. I struggled under it, until I finally found something I could do for work. Then I only had that for a couple of years until someone-- Jack- found a way to exploit it. And then it ruined me all over again. And took a bunch of people with it, this time.

But in that ruination, I found a way to struggle free. It doesn't have to be something that only hurts, me and others. I can tame it, I can aim it. It's mine.

So now- I can do what I want. I finally have some agency in my life...now that I'm dead.

[I'm trying just gets a small nod, and plenty of time to get his words out. She knows patience isn't exactly one of her strong suits, but, well. She can try, too.]

It sucks that it had to come to that. You got any idea what you want to do, now that you're out from under Jack and Hannibal's thumbs?

[ And this is harder to answer. He blows out a breath in a sigh. ]

I'm working on that. I'd been focused on Abigail, but that's done, now. Something that utilizes my...ability, the way I want. Probably.

[ More quietly: ] I have a lot to re-evaluate. It would probably help if my mind didn't feel like gumbo.

[... Well. There is one obvious thing.]

You think you're gonna have any use for a magic deal after you graduate, Will?

[ He chuckles quietly. ]

Uh...well. I don't think bringing Hannibal back is gonna be on the table, so- not really?

But it's not like everyone is here for a deal. Maybe.

[There's the soft sound of a chair scraping back on hard flooring, and footsteps as she gets up to pace.]

This is a crappy place to make a life long-term, Will. Use it for what it's good for, then figure something else out. You can help people at home, too.

I'd give you a job. I ever tell you about the kind of work I do?

[She knows she hasn't. She also knows that he could possibly have picked up on a few things.]

[ Is it a bad place to live? Iris seems happy here. Maybe it just takes a certain type of person. Will puts that elsewhere to think about later. ]

You haven't, but- federal. Not FBI, though. Black ops? CIA?

Not anymore, I'm with a freelance team now. Small, under the table, off the books - completely, not just officially. My boss is-- he's a good guy.

We save people by trying to stop violent crimes while they're still in the planning stages.

I can appreciate a rogue group. How do you stop violent crimes before they happen, though? That's...you can't be sure they'll go through with something. Right?

Mm, we keep an eye on things and do pretty extensive recon. We're not... preemptively taking people out or imprisoning them based on hunches or thought crimes, if that's what you're worried about. Boss'd throw a fit.

[ Will smiles a bit at that. ]

Glad to hear it. Better than the things Jack would start yelling about, anyway.

[ He sort of distractedly pets Winston as he thinks, imagines what it would be like to be in that sort of situation. A separate group, on their own, doing what they think is right. ]

I'm guessing I don't have to go into how badly I usually work with a team.

However bad you are, there's no way you're worse than Root.

[She sits down finally, cross-legged on the floor instead of taking a chair (... or dog bed) .]

When I got back from that whole captivity thing, they needed back-up; we couldn't really afford for me to take time off. They all made me sit out a week anyway, to make sure I rested and recovered or whatever. That whole thing with Jack? Wouldn't've happened to you with us, or any solid team.

[OOC: just noticed that five-ish tags up I forgot this was action now and switched back to audio formatting; I am so sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me this week!]

[ Winston can't help it- someone is on the floor. And Will seems- well, more normal-ish, as much as he ever is. So Winston trots over to request some pets from Shaw.

Will, meanwhile, nods appreciatively at Shaw's description of an enforced recuperation from work. She's not the type to lie, but it still feels weird to him, the idea that even a bunch of rogues would take care of each other better. Having faith that someone would at least try to back you up when you needed help-- wait, he had that once before, didn't he?

He narrows his eyes and then sighs, as he realizes it's not his memory. It's brief, though. He rubs his eyes and then looks to Shaw. ]

Uh- think I just remembered something of yours. Did your group work with something called The Machine?

[Shaw doesn't know if she'll ever stop feeling a sharp, sudden burst of suspicion when people on the Barge ask questions like this. Honestly, she hopes she never does stop. When it comes to graduating an inmate and working towards a deal, it's best to assume that the Barge is real and act accordingly - but when it comes to talking about home, and to sharing information that Decima and Sameritan would be all too happy to get their hands on, she can't lose sight of the fact that this could all be an elaborate ploy to get her to let her guard down and give away more than she should.]

Yeah.

[She says guardedly, rubbing a hand over Winston's back and letting him flop down in her lap.]

What do you remember?

[ He can feel the suspicion spike, bursting in his ears briefly like radio static. But that makes sense, and he's certainly not going to take offense at it. He'll talk to her about it, see how long it takes for her to get the rest. Because he knows how off-putting this is, and it sounds like sensitive information.

Although, as he starts, he laughs a little. ]

I think it's Root. Did she tase you and drug you and zip-tie you to a steering wheel? [ That might not be helpful, if Shaw doesn't have it, so he continues on. ] Uh, wavy brown hair, brown eyes, black leather jacket, about my height probably...pretty flippant about kidnapping.

[ He raises an eyebrow at Shaw. Does that sound right? ]

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