empathicfault | IC Inbox

Will's shoulders hunch up, much like when Harkin would lecture him for taking needless risks back in Seattle. It takes him a moment to notice that and forcibly shove them down again. He rubs at his face.

"Nah, it's whisky. Or whatever they have here that passes for it." Because they haven't left this world yet.

He swallows before he speaks, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing. "I should've checked in more. I'm sorry. Most of it wasn't dangerous for me. But...not all."

At the clarification of the cup's contents, Sweeney tips his head in approval. His tone makes it clear that he's moved past the requisite chiding phase, and has no lingering issues with the topic.

"Knew ya were with Malcolm. That's all that was really needed. Forests don't tend ta give wolves too much trouble, even filled with predators, an'...I know ya got Gaius as a backup." What else is needed at the end of the day? At the time, he didn't know anyone could get stuck.

"F'gured when the stop was wrappin' up, if ya couldn't find yer way back, the Adm'ral'd scoop ya up, like he does. And..." Sweeney takes a moment to consider the words, trying to capture the idea succinctly.

"If the worst were ta happen, an' there was no undoin' it, you were with the one person in the world ya should be. You two, together. Whate'er was ta come."

That's important. What he'd done wrong those years ago. Not 'done wrong', maybe. But had to carry the weight of, all the same.

Will grimaces a little, first at his first sip of booze and then at the reminder of the worst possible outcome.

"Yeah, we definitely did get scooped up. What the Admiral said about the river, we took it seriously. I didn't want to risk getting 'detached' from the boat." He downs the rest of his glass, suddenly needing more of the burning. "Either I'd go back to death or...I wouldn't die, and that'd be worse."

He shakes his head. "But it wasn't bad. Mostly zombie-like things, a few other abominations. We felt good, being able to help by fighting things. Keeping the stragglers from the river safe."

The puff of air isn't a proper snort, just a quiet sound lost in his tipped glass.

"Still strange ta me, Malcolm wantin' ta do violence." The man always seemed so...well, not delicate, but adverse. Like he feels there should always be another, better, solution.

The alcohol isn't bad, and he tips his head to Will in appreciation for it.

Thinking about Malcolm in that context has Will leaning back against his couch, an admiring smile on his face. It very effectively kicks Will out of his current worries.

"Oh, he's exceptionally good at it. Skilled, efficient. Graceful as he goes about it, even. It seems like his natural state. And that's why..." Why he could never accept it. "He works very hard to give himself another choice. A way to disarm, a way to talk someone down. Most everything down there, thankfully, was pretty mindless. He was able to let loose without guilt."

"Oh, there's a difference between bein' good at somethin' an' wantin' ta do it." Sweeney knows that shit all too well. He sighs and sips his drink.

"Just not sure what tempers him. If it's guilt or shame or love fer the common man." Or whatever, the small shake of his head suggests.

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