maskormenacelogs | [closed] The trick to life...

Entry tags:

† will graham | wolf trap

[closed] The trick to life...

WHO: Jayden and Dad 2
WHERE: Will's Bait Shop
WHEN: Sunday, September 21st, past 6 pm.
WHAT: Father/son conversations
WARNINGS: IDEK.

[Jayden is very late, but he shows up.

By the time he finds Will's bait shop, he smells vaguely of marijuana and has a bad case of the munchies. Or maybe it's just that it's dinner time. He's coming down off a high, and having smoked before leaving the house to access the teleporter and go all the way to De Chima, then wander around a city he's not familiar with at all... well. Let's just say there was a fair bit of getting lost but not particularly caring he didn't know where he was. It took him far longer than it should to check the crumbled paper Will gave him a month earlier and realize he got the town mixed up. Will's house is in De Chima. The shop? Heropa. Oops.

For what it's worth, he doesn't look as upset as he seemed the night before. Tired, perhaps, but certainly not on edge. He almost cancelled coming, having forgotten what exactly had compelled him to make the trip in the first place. He knows it's all in writing on his phone, but he'd rather not read it over.

Maybe they can just talk about fishing.

He comes in the front door, scanning the store for a sign of the scruffy former FBI dude.]

Uh, Will? You here?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Will hadn't expected promptness, but he also hadn't expected to come into his shop and suddenly realize he had so little that needed to be done. In the time it takes for Jayden to go wandering about De Chima and realize his mistake, Will has done the most useless and unnecessary of tasks to keep himself busy. The rows of hats with cheesy, stupid fishing jokes on them? Are now all done in alphabetical order. The wall of fake bait has now been arranged according to color as opposed to anything else, starting with lighter colors nearest the door and the darker ones farthest away. The joke of a tip jar that generally sits near the cash register has been thoroughly cleaned and set on its mouth in the sink to dry. He's scanned the network, thought to contact a few people, and finished the crossword puzzles that he missed over the weekend. It's about the time that Jayden finally does appear that Will has settled in the back room with what appears to be an enormous bowl ice cream, various flavors that make it look like he just pulled all the ice cream out of the freezer and couldn't make up his mind so he went with a scoop of each. It's the frozen dairy equivalent of "everything but the kitchen sink" and he can't be bothered to care so much that he's been found in his shop, usually closed on Sunday, half the lights off, his only company being that bearded dog and a bowl of far too much ice cream for one person.

He's going to be thrown in a hospital where he'll probably never get a meal he wants unless he does some begging. He'll eat as much ice cream as he damn well feels like and blame it on that.

That's what greets Jayden, Will popping his head out of the back room with that bowl in hand, the dog's head popping up from behind the counter at roughly the same time. Will doesn't have a tail to wag, though, so Gunther's seems to do double time to compensate.]

I'm here. [No need to draw a clock, he's here on this one. Here and with a spoon sticking straight out of a lump of strawberry like a sad lonely fuck, but here nonetheless. He stuffs the spoon in a little further, looks at it and then looks back up with something that's not a smile but as welcoming as one, source considered.] Do you want some ice cream? Something to drink? It's sort of overflowing back here. I'd appreciate some help getting rid of it.

[It's not that Annie and Skye and Abigail and the various others who pop by don't do a good job of helping him get rid of his non-profit, high quality vending machine. It's that Will might have bought a little extra bulk this time. Everyone likes the guy with the free food, don't they?]

[Gunther and Will catch his attention at the same time, and there's a slight delay as Jayden registers the big dog and also the bowl of ice cream in Will's hands.]

Oh, hey. Sorry I'm late, I got kinda lost.

[No need to tell him how lost. He shuffles farther into the store, only now starting to register the lame t-shirts and hats with their dumb slogans. He reads a few and laughs, even though they aren't that funny. But Will is selling them and that's hilarious.]

You really sell this shit?

[He snickers a bit more, then manages to get himself under control, more or less.]

Ice cream would be great.

[Who cares if he's eating it in lieu of dinner? That sounds like the best idea ever right now.]

[Will follows Jayden's eyes, is used to people reading the stupid crap tacked all over his products and taking in their reactions, the ones they show and the ones they don't think they're showing. Jayden, however, is easy, gets easier when he calls them all exactly what they are: shit.]

Course I do. You ever end up down at one the big marinas and see someone in a Master Baiter shirt, it's probably one of mine. [He points the spoon in the direction of a cluster of shirts on a rack. The more suggestive ones have to be looked for, but they're in there. The Wonderdog comes to a line of tape and stops, looking from Will to the kid with curiosity all over his mustached face, tail wagging slowly. Not a vie for attention, but asking permission, which Will gives. Enough to cross the line and go trotting up to Jayden, sniffing. He's well-behaved, might lick fingers and arms if he can, but not inclined to jump or stick his face in places that dogs tend to do with dogs and people get aggravated about.] Come on back. You can make it yourself. Just found a thing of sprinkles where the butter usually sits, so if that's your thing—use 'em all.

[The back room is basic, a small, round table with three chairs that are just a step up from fold outs, the walls a soothing shade of blue. Cabinets and counters indicate it was meant to be some sort of employee break room, but there's only one real employee. Coffeepot, a microwave that clearly came from somewhere secondhand, the fridge and freezer set up cram packed with what either shouts that Will has a thing for ice cream and frozen treats or he's got some traffic coming through that has nothing to do with bait, fishing, or even tacky shirts.]

You can have a Master Baiter shirt too, if you want one.

[The season isn't what it used to be, the profits aren't the same. But as Will throws that out there and sits down, spread-legged, stuffing a lump of ice cream in his mouth, and not at all standing on sort of pretense about etiquette and polite this or that, it's pretty obvious he's not at all joking that Jayden could have a free piece of shit. Makes the fishing easier, this sort of conversation, gives Jayden the chance to set the tone for whatever they'll be discussing. It doesn't even seem like Will's referencing any conversations that they made have had in the past—Master Baiter is teenage boy humor, that's all.]

[Jayden willingly accepts the greeting from Gunther, bending down and giving the dog a tentative pat, and then a veritable hug. He coos a few requisite good doggies before standing again. The lure of the ice cream is too big.

...And what a stash it is.]

Holy shit. You keep all this for yourself?

[It's a pothead's dream come true. Which is why Jayden indiscriminately starts grabbing for some cartons of ice cream and containers of toppings. It's almost like Cold Stone in here. He dumps as much as he dares into a bowl, and then a little more, becuse Will sure doesn't seem to care. He snorts at the joke.]

I'm good, but thanks. You got any gummy worms?

[Gummy worms sound awesome as a topping right now.]

[Will is far more used to the smell of pot and what the munchies looks like, thanks to a certain roommate. Just as he doesn't bring it up with Mike Parker, he's not going to bring up smells with Jayden. He's not law enforcement, and Will probably smells like a mix of sea spray, sand, and sweat at the moment. He notes it, but as he's currently shoving another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, the idea that he doesn't seem to care is a pretty valid one. Care about the stench, care about the fact of the matter that Jayden is content to upturn his freezer, none of it.]

Not just me. I got a couple people who stop by. [Mostly young women, which hasn't his escaped his notice. And Ace, who defies classification by anything Will knows back home, which is pretty damn good when the classification falls into "talking dog capable of flipping a car and destroying a house" territory.] Didn't have anything for them before, decided to change that. The fridge's full of soda, too, if you wanna mix it up. [There's not a blender for milkshakes, but no one needs a blender to dump generic brand root beer or knock-off Coke in a bowl of ice cream. It's all about the simple things in life, isn't it.] Last time I had gummy worms was for the shop, and nobody bought any. Ended up eating them all myself and my stomach hasn't let me forget it. [Not that he regrets it. He doesn't seem to regret it. Better to have a gummy worm brick than to be stuck in a hospital for the criminally insane and wondering if he's going to end up with maggoty oatmeal. Small blessings.] I can put them on the list if you wanna stop by more.

[He sounds serious about it. If the wide array in the fridge and freezer is anything to go by, Will is serious about it. Jayden would probably come back the next day to find a bag of gummy worms added to the collection like they had always been there. His money's here not at all the same as it was before, but he's also not a homeowner. He doesn't have a car. He has one dog instead of seven. He can afford to splurge on this sort of thing more than he could before, truth be told. His collection of wandering souls is well-cared for when it comes to cold, unhealthy desserts. If Jayden wanted to be absorbed into it, Will would oblige without any problem. Gunther, too, from the looks of it, curling up under Will's chair and watching Jayden as opposed to whining at his side, licking up at the bowl like the kid owed him a slipped treat. Most likely because he knows that when Will's done, the bowl gets set on the floor for the bearded menace to clean out, but Jayden's yet to experience that great joy of cleaning.]

[Cookies and cream meet cookie dough meet peanut butter swirl. Add butterscotch and sprinkles and whip cream and yes he thinks he's good to go. Jayden sits down beside Will and takes a big, satisfying mouthful. Holy crap that's good, and the look on his face reflects it.]

Mmmm. Maybe.

[The invitation to come by more might be harmless, but there's that wiggling in the back of his mind, the reason why he decided to come here today, of all days. So far he's managed to keep it pushed aside, the idea that Will might expect him to Talk, with a capital T. It would be Jayden's own fault if he did. He was way out of line the night before, and the memory slides back to him as the ice cream travels down his throat. He shivers, involuntarily, from the sudden shift in internal temperature.

But if Will is honestly content with feeding him and not asking prying questions, that's fine by him, too. Jayden grins down at Gunther.]

You still need to get a Siberian husky and name him Vasily.

[The problem with Jayden going for everything is that Will can't make a note of it, can't file away favorites in case something crops up later. Then again, if later involves the same smell that Jayden's got on him, it probably doesn't matter what sort of ice cream is involved.]

Already know one here. He's an imPort. Ace. [The way Will mentions this Ace, it's impossible to tell that Ace was involved in completely obliterating his housing here and scaring the Bejeezus out of him. No hard feelings on Will's end.] Don't usually get many purebreds. They're expensive, have other people after them. This one's got problems. Oxygen deprivation in the womb. His breed's very, very smart. He's not.

[But he's loyal and affectionate and happy to see Will no matter what state he's in, which is the important part. The mustached menace knows he's being talked about, looks up, and is reward by Will holding out his spoon so a glob of ice cream falls from it right into an open mouth. Well, mostly the open mouth. He's going to have to do some licking to get the little bit that didn't make it.]

You talked to that Yuri guy yet?

[The Talk isn't one he'll demand, but he can veer into that territory. Can and does, abruptly, setting the bowl on the table and leaning in just enough that he doesn't have to worry about a mess on his shirt. Slip the line a little, tug and twist as he needs to. Jayden might have said a few unpleasant things to Will, but Will's heard worse, can't take that sort of thing too personally. Obviously doesn't, if sharing ice cream and staying after hours is a good frame of reference for how offended he is about the whole debacle.]

There's an imPort dog? Seriously? [He shouldn't be surprised. He has a dinosaur as his roommate.] You ever wonder what they're smoking up at the military base when you see the kind of people the Porter brings in?

[He eats a couple more mouthfuls and leans down to pat Gunther on the head. Good, dumb dog. He's okay with that.]

He seems fine to me.

[He licks some butterscotch off his finger and looks up, surprised to hear Yuri's name.]

About what?

[There's temptation to mention that while he's not sure what the government is smoking, exactly, he knows where they could go for the good stuff. But, again, that brings up the olfactory abomination in the room that Will has grown more than used to by now, and runs the risk of Jayden taking it the wrong way...

Jayden who pets his dumb dog's head without any pause, who gets Will's attention by doing something he might not really be thinking too much about. It's simple human and dog interaction, is reacted to by a few thumps of that tail against the floor and the sort of smile only a canine can give, but it speaks volumes in Will's mind. Shouts them. Yells them through a megaphone, even. That sponge is never too full to absorb the obvious, whether or not people realize they're giving it off.

It's an odd sort of focus on Will's face when he looks up, absolute and unyielding. Dog, food, a room full of live insects, the possibility the door could be opened despite the sign declaring it closed on Sundays, all of it's completely tuned out and the sole recipient of Will's attention is apparently a fan of butterscotch. He can remember that one.]

Maybe he dresses a little... [How does he even word that? He's not sure, ends up straightening his back out. Proper. Prim. Old-fashioned. Throw a damn feathered hat and fur-lined trench coat on that and it's a Halloween costume.] ...but the pimp bit's kinda far. [Will has experience with people who dress in similar ways, though he highly doubts that Yuri finds rudeness to be something that must be avenged by brutality and organ theft. That sort of person suit is a one hit wonder. Or so he'd like to think.] He cares about you, and it all...flew off the rails pretty quick there.

[Because Will started a conversation. He hasn't overlooked that, shoves a blob of ice cream to the other side of his bowl like someone who's realizing they weren't as hungry as they thought or might be losing their appetite. The latter's not a problem. Not with dairy.

"cares" as opposed to "seems to care" because from what Will's observed? There's care involved.]

[Jayden sighs. You're harshing his buzz, Will. Although to be frank, the high's almost gone, and the ice cream tastes fabulous but he can tell soon he'll be stone sober again, and the unpleasantness of reality will be upon him. The reason for visiting: he fucked up last night. He went way, way too far, and the scary part was it was difficult to stop once he got started. He knows it was just a stupid internet argument, but still.

He shoves another spoonful in his mouth so he doesn't have to answer right away. But he swallows that too quickly and now must risk letting the silence stretch to an awkward degree.]

Don't get me started on his fashion choices.

[Humor, to deflect. It's his biggest defense mechanism.]

I apologized last night. [After Yuri had asked if Jayden hated him. That in itself was a brutal question, and his answer worse. Admitting to himself, finally, that he hates everything about the place he's been taken to, but can't escape.]

I'm sorry to you, too. About what I said. You couldn't have known that stuff about me, and it's not like, a contest of who has the shittiest background. I was just pissed.

[Will stays quiet, rolling his ankle so his leg spreads even further when he feels the dog trying to make a pillow out of his shoe. It's fortunate he didn't have anything in his mouth at the mention of fashion choices, manages to keep anything like laughter from coming out, opts for a smile that doesn't usually fit his face. He can't talk about fashion (him in his plaid, in his tacky hats and shirts) but he's got plenty of experience with people who can—and even then, he sort of wonders about the world of fashion. Pocket squares and tie pins and ties with bizarre patterns, perhaps signs of wealth more than signs of actually being able to dress oneself.

He's not used to apologies on things of such a (compared to what he deals with) small scale, takes a moment to mix more of his ice cream as he mulls over how to best approach. It won't do to dismiss it as nothing, the implication there being that Jayden's reveal in his outburst is considered meaningless when it's not at all. He's used to dealing with histories in as impersonal a capacity as he can for work, but Jayden is not work. It's an ebb and flow of social interaction he's put effort into avoiding and yet can't afford to do in this new world, one he's still getting acquainted with.]

Apology accepted. [Better than it's okay or don't worry about it, he thinks, the best he can come up with.] And I apologize if I do come across as patronizing more often than not. I don't mean to be. [He's not good with apologies himself, but the ebb and flow requires them, a current he'll have to get more comfortable swimming in. When one part moves, another has to follow suit, and it's never as easy as it would be physically, if he were shackled, if he was in a certain position. Draining stuff, really.] So the Chec...

[For all the talents he possesses, properly pronouncing "Chechen" doesn't seem to be one of them. It's an odd mix of a sh and a k, Will revealing in no uncertain terms that he's ~~white~~ not at all good at this language stuff, that while he might have done a basic search on it, he didn't look up how to pronounce it and is now suffering the consequences. The consequences of looking like a total nimrod in front of a teenager. He gives up on the word, lifts his eyebrows a little. Jayden knows how to say it, he's sure. He's open to learning. Won't he please help Will Graham.]

[Jayden catches the smile and considers the joke a success. Will isn't the type to smile when it's unwarranted, something Jayden appreciates. Americans and their fake smiles have always bugged him – a culture clash he never quite grew accustomed to. Or maybe it was misplaced resentment from all those times he had to be goaded into smiling for school pictures.]

It's okay. You're a teacher. And in the FBI. [As if that's automatically a double whammy of patronization, which, as far as Jayden is concerned, it is. Teachers love talking down to people, and so do the feds. That sure stacks the odds against Will, although to his credit Jayden doesn't find him nearly as insufferable as Yuri can be.] You do all right usually.

[He takes a hard swallow on the ice cream that is beginning to melt into soup. This wasn't an invitation to bring the subject up again, but he can't think of an easy way to squash the attempt without being rude.]

Chechen.

[Two identical ch-led sounds with an n on the end. Simple, really, at least to someone whose first language is prone to lining up long strings of consecutive consonants. ]

[Jayden won't ever have to deal with fake smiles from Will—the ones that are real are obviously real, the ones that are there for reasons that shouldn't result in smile are obviously just that. He fakes plenty of things already, adding smiles onto that is too much. It's there and gone as it should be, doesn't reappear at the mention of teaching, of being in the FBI (that, if anything, is a good reason not to smile), but he does appear to appreciate being told he does all right. His experience with teenagers isn't an enormous one—who doesn't like to be told that they're not screwing everything up?]

Chechen. [Shockingly on point compared to his last stuttered tries, though considering he was parroting Jayden, it's not difficult. Easy to catch on verbally, easier to catch on that it's probably not something he wants to get too into.] I grew up all over Mississippi and Louisiana. A lotta people speaking bastardized French, but I never learned too much. Still got salle de bain under my belt, good to go with asking for the restroom. [He might have it under his belt, but it doesn't mean he pronounces it well. But where he picked it up from...perhaps easy to understand why that might be.] They're not making you learn another language at school here, are they?

[Asked through a mouthful of strawberry like this conversation is no big deal. Keeping up with two seems like enough. Forcing a third while the first language relates to what it relates to here doesn't strike him as the best idea. It also wouldn't surprise him in the least.

It would surprise him about as much as Jayden asking what the feds look for on fake IDs. He's not like regular FBI, he's fake-ass ugh no FBI.]

Edited (omg verbs) 2014-10-02 04:59 (UTC)

[At Will's confession about his origins, Jayden looks surprised. But he's relieved that Will hasn't asked for a more detailed account of what it means to be part Chechen. He wouldn't have a good answer. Nor does he know many of the sordid details himself. His parents succeeded at something in bringing him to America, at least.]

Really? You don't sound Southern.

[But then Jayden's experience with most Southern accents come from TV, so he's probably not the best judge. To him, Will just sounds articulate, perhaps overly so, but he assumed that too had something to do with being FBI and teachery. Although he's not one to speak on proper pronunciation either; the discerning ear might catch a slight slip in his own words every so often, tugging toward the inflection of his native tongue.]

Nah. I took three years of Spanish back home. They said that was enough.

[And surprise surprise, Russian is not a language offered at Heropa High.]

Edited (repetition is bad) 2014-10-03 04:51 (UTC)

[He lets the remark about how he sounds pass, not really inclined to ask after either how Jayden thinks he sounds or what he thinks Southern is "supposed" to sound like. It's possible that he'd get an answer relating back to time-honored movies played late at night on TV, Driving Miss Daisy or Steel Magnolias or Smokey and the Bandit. It's possible he'll hit the jackpot with a remark about Cool Hand Luke. It's possible he'll hit rock bottom with Deliverance and it's possible he'll be sent straight to hell screaming in every way with the absolute worst answer of Old Yeller.

I know, Mama. He was my dog. I'll do it.

BLAMMO

Will is never prepared for the possibility of Old Yeller got rabies, Ma, and avoiding any conversation where it can come up is a Goddamn art he's mastered.

So onto Spanish it is.]

You fluent in Spanish, too? [Criminal profiler bloodhound who tracks down the killers nobody else can with the memory of an elephant and training in forensic science he may be, he still comes off as completely impressed with the idea of it. Two languages, fine. Three languages, who has that much room in their brain for that shit, and at what point do they learn more and become a crazy asshole of a serial killer? Of course, at a younger age, he recognizes it's easier, but he can't be bothered to restrain anything just because he knows it's considered biologically less difficult for someone as young as Jayden. That sort of knowledge is something to be respected.] Does that ever get confusing?

[He gets confused about who he is with remarkable frequency, at least when he's sick out of his mind.

Yeah, Will's impressed. Ignoring his ice cream further cements that much.]

[Jayden smirks around the spoon in his mouth, ducking his head in embarrassment.]

Uh uh. [Spoken with a full mouth; he pauses to swallow.] I did okay in class, but I don't remember that much.

[It's not like Russian and English. But then, he never had a reason to speak Spanish outside of class, which might have something to do with it. And Abigail told him about that kid brain thing, where they can pick languages up really fast.]

Not really. I mean, sometimes there are things that sound better in Russian. Like with English you can throw a bunch of words together and still not say very much. Russian's more.... straightforward, I guess? I dunno if that makes any sense. But English is better for other stuff. I don't think about it too much. I guess it's nice when someone else speaks both, then I can just use whichever sounds best.

[This might account for the bulk of his interactions with Yuri, in which he jumps back and forth between Russian and English with little outward logic. Usually Yuri follows his lead, dealing with him in whichever language he's picked with his usual austere manner. Jayden shrugs.]

I talk a lot faster in Russian. I've noticed that.

[Straightforward he guesses, not knowing if that makes sense. Judging by Will's face, it makes total sense. At least, to Will. Though his problems with words never come from wanting to draw upon another language and being unable to find a proper way to say it another, it's not something that's impossible to get. But the more Jayden talks about the Russian language, the more Will ventures back to an older time, a time before iPods, a time when people warred over moving from VHS to DVD. The Eocene epoch, essentially.]

There was this Russian band that was popular when I was in college. [Oh hell.] And there was this guy in some of my classes who was really into them. [Why would that be.] The name was pronounced like "tattoo" but it was...the name itself wasn't. I used to call them tater to piss him off. [What a nice person.] They sang really fast in all their Russian music. The English ones were slower.

[No, Will's word problems do not stem from language barriers. They stem from everything else.

He's trying to relate, okay. He's trying. He's trying so hard his ice cream is melting.]

Edited 2014-10-04 00:33 (UTC)

[Jayden snorts with laughter.]

You mean t.A.T.u?

[And he keeps laughing, because a) they are a ridiculous pop band from like four years ago and b) this is Will Graham's attempt at relating, which Jayden appreciates, but it's still fucking absurd.]

I remember them. They had the song about being lesbians.

[Another shocker, that such a thing would stick in a thirteen-year-old boy's mind.]

[They are a totally ridiculous band but not from like four years ago as far as Will knows. If he was in college four years ago, he might be doing a little better. Alas, he graduated. Moved on. Moved up. Moved out into a bare bleak not-at-all cushy cell in a prison for the criminally insane.

Maybe some people should stay in school forever.

Snorting laughter is good, even if it's directed at Will's fucking absurd attempts, at his stupid nickname for a band he knew would piss off a fan, at him in general.]

That was their theme, yeah. [Back to ice cream? Back to ice cream.] Why else would some guy in college be interested in Russian pop music?

[Will wasn't a profiler at the time, but he didn't need to be to side-eye the fuck out of Tater fan, and his voice reflects that much. Not his favorite classmate. At all. Which worked out great because Will totally wasn't his, either.

Or anyone's.]

[Jayden shrugs.]

They were okay. If I'm gonna listen to Russian stuff, it's probably gonna be rap.

[Which is a statement he suspects will take him even farther away from the relatable territory Will is trying to cling to. Jayden licks his spoon.]

[It does exactly what he expects it to, and his face reflects that much. It's entirely possible he's experiencing some brain freeze or hit a tooth in the wrong way, of course, which makes him thankful he chose ice cream as opposed to anything else. Eventually, though, he stuffs the last of it in his mouth and leans over to set down both bowl and spoon for Gunther to clean.

He'll properly clean it later, of course.]

Rap's pretty popular. [He remembers the first supposed rap song. The arguments over whether or not it was, calling back to a song just two years prior. Both of them older than Jayden, neither one Russian. He doesn't need to prove his age more than he already has, ends up reclaiming his foot to cross it over his knee as he leans back in the chair, running one hand through his hair.] Is it okay if I ask about what we couldn't discuss at the dunking booth?

[It's abrupt as anything, but delivered with what might be taken as a startling amount of ease, like a casual conversation. For someone who worked in law enforcement, it rather is. What cameras there are about the shop, he's already told at least one person, pick up video and nothing else. His communicator isn't close by. He's not sure if Jayden has his on him, either. This is really as alone as it gets without extreme measures taken.

And even then: tattoos.]

[Jayden's shoulders visibly tense at the subject change. He'd rather talk about about music and trashy pop bands and eat more ice cream and he's no longer stoned enough not to care. Yuri didn't exactly tell him not to tell anyone what happened to them, but Jayden hasn't mentioned it to anyone else, for fear of... he's not sure what. The government somehow knowing, perhaps. The agents were pretty adamant about proving his loyalty, showing he was truly on "Team America" (clearly the puppet movie didn't exist in this universe), and divulging to everyone that he had been detained seemed like the opposite of that. He doesn't want to be interrogated again, because he's afraid the second time they aren't going to let him go.

But Will is Will, who is FBI but did not drink the Koolaid like the rest of them. Who is here, serving him ice cream and not judging him for pot use or getting angry about abstractions. Jayden swallows hard.]

What do you want to know?

[Jayden's his sole focus yet again, the same intensity that was present when he was throwing out crap about dirty looks making a reappearance. All those off behaviors seem to have vanished for the moment, no longer distracted, nothing bordering on fidgeting, no refusing eye contact if Jayden makes a move to establish it. Body language, tone of voice, facial features, it's all being taken into account. Easier to do when he gets rid of his own bullshit and narrows everything down to what it is, tosses out what some things aren't. If there is going to be honesty, Will's going to be honest in return—he's going to be honestly himself, still and quiet and attentive.

Tact is required. The time he spends getting rid of the shit on his own end doubles as time to try and gather that in the right ways, to keep interest and curiosity from being taken as anything that comes from a negative place. One of the last things he wants Jayden to think is that there's harm meant behind this, harm or indulging something morbid.]

You said you didn't think you should talk about it there. [There having been plenty of things for him to try and narrow it down to—there being a place where imPorts were at the forefront, there being a place full of imPorts and the public, there being public in general, he wasn't positive.] What's the it?

[Still and quiet and attentive and calm, voice lower, soothing. The sort one would want to hear from the police officer one is stuck with, has to explain a totally misunderstood situation to. Good cop and bad cop, and this is the voice of the good cop. Not the good cop playing at being a good cop, the actually good cop.

When he wants to be, but that's neither here nor there. Even Gunther, finished with cleaning that bowl and putting his head up in Will's lap, gets only basic, natural reaction as attention in return. A hand goes out to scratch his ears and avoid the tongue still licking. Everything else is centered on Jayden.]

[Jayden shrugs, an attempt at looking casual.]

How you get treated when you're Russian around here.

[Especially by the government.]

[Dog's head scratched just enough to appease him, Will crosses his arms, slouches back further in the chair—what could be seen as standing his ground while retreating, body language that conflicts.]

I wouldn't've known if you hadn't told me. Don't have the best ear for that sort of thing. [Inside the States? Fine. Accents that are portrayed clearly and heavily in media, for better and worse? Not difficult. Everything else? Hannibal is from Europe. Somewhere. That's all he knows.] What's the treatment like?

It's not just sounding Russian.

[He has spent the majority of his English-speaking years fortunate enough to have erased most of his accent completely, while his parents and older family friends remained unmistakably Russian in their inflections. Back home it didn't come up much, since despite being clichéd Hollywood villains, Russians didn't catch much flak. Here, on the other hand, has been a different experience.]

And I mean, it's okay, for the most part. It's not like you can't walk down the street without getting beat or anything. I'm not trying to make it sound like it is.

[Persecution complexes tire him. Hearing his mom's boyfriend rant about all the ways in which America has let him down has soured him on the phenomenon. Deal with it or do something, don't just sit around complaining. He hopes that isn't the way he's coming off to Will.]

So I'll just like... not speak Russian in public if I don't want dirty looks, I get it.

[He has taken now to stirring his ice cream instead of eating it. In consistency, it's currently something in between soft serve and soup.]

It's the other stuff, some of the stuff the government is doing, that isn't helping.

[He's not coming across that way to Will at all, doesn't need to put any effort into it. Jayden (and most of the people he knows here) has no idea about his thing, and Will doesn't have it in him to get into it. Ever. So Jayden can cover up where he doesn't need to and Will can drop his eyes to that soupy ice cream, that's just fine with him.

It's not a persecution complex Will sees at play, never has been. To go from one place where he probably hasn't much issues because of being Russian to a new world where that is a major factor, complete with powers and a wealth of people that aren't exactly the norm? It makes sense for there to be frustration, confusion, anger. Jayden's never struck him as persecuted. He's struck him as out of place and reminded of how out of place in a way other imPorts didn't have to deal with so much. Yuri Petrov, he imagined, could suffer the heat that came with being Russian, but Yuri Petrov was also an adult, had had the time to physically mature, hailed from one hell of a world.

Jayden isn't wayward, in Will's mind. More lost.]

Glad to hear you're not getting beat. [The tone in his voice, that isn't said to be polite or sarcastic. No, Will is genuinely pleased to hear this, even if he had never expected otherwise. The day he finds out that he should have been expecting otherwise isn't going to be a good day at all.] I can't do anything if you don't specify what stuff the government is doing, Jayden.

[Will Graham with his bait shop and his dumb dog might not look like much, which is really no skin off his back. But the people from his world know better whether he likes it or not. The small grouping he has in this Earth, those who know his job, those who deal with Freddie Lounds...he's not going to divulge his thing but he doesn't have to do much other than speak mildly about Baltimore and keep the same company from it for it to be obvious he's more than a dumb dog and a bait shop. He also happens to be the adult in this situation, which adds another possible, potentially damaging power dynamic to this talk. Which is why he follows that quickly with:]

Is there anything I can do if you tell me more that I can't do now?

[Is there anything I can do at all? might have been more fitting, but that possible, potentially damaging power dynamic only proves damaging if the one who sits at the upper end of it intends to do damage, doesn't it? What's wrong with a little suggestive questioning when there's nothing malicious behind it?

Other than the fact of the matter that it could be read as what it is, of course. Words have meaning, agenda. Will's, now, are carefully chosen, and spoken in a way that relates he wants to help as opposed to a way that relates Will is carefully choosing anything he says in the hopes of gleaning more details. There's a difference in wanting details so he can use them in a good way as opposed to wanting details so he can completely destroy Jayden's life and smile at him as everything goes to hell.

The tactics might be similar, but every F major needs that F, that A, and that C to play. If it's higher or lower, sound changes. Still requires the same three keys to get the desired result.]

I don't think so.

[Maybe if he was still in the FBI – an actual fed on his side, can you imagine? – but in this world Will Graham is a weird dude who runs a bait shop of all things. Not exactly pulling a lot of weight in the government there. That's the way he seems to like it, too, so far be it from Jayden to expect anything more. That's a lesson he's learned in life the last few years: if you want anything done, you'll have to do it yourself. He's fatherless, and his mother cares far too much about herself to do much for her son. Even if he hadn't been kidnapped to another dimension, Jayden knows he is largely alone in the world.

The problem is, there isn't a lot a seventeen-year-old can do on his own. That's the cruel irony of it all.

The words come out anyway, regardless. He's not even sure why. Maybe Will has earned them with his patience.]

You remember the space shuttle hijacking, right? How they arrested those Russians and said they were Soviet spies and then we never heard anything else about them again? Well, it was just like... a few weeks after that, these feds showed up at my work when I was on lunch. They told me to get in a car with them and if I didn't, they'd arrest me. So I went.

[He takes a deep breath, lifting his spoon and watching the melted ice cream drip back into the bowl. He still doesn't like talking about this; it makes him feel shaky and breathless.]

They took me to some government building and I had to sit in an interrogation room for four hours. I missed the whole afternoon of work. They kept asking me about... I dunno, it would be dumb stuff at first. Like what I want to study in school. And then suddenly they're wondering if I know the pledge of allegiance and believe in it. And we must've gone over how I got my citizenship back home like five times. I was like, don't you know what political asylum is? It means things were so shitty where we came from that we fled to America so things would be better.

[He's grasping the spoon so tightly his knuckles are white and his hand trembles. He lowers it back to the table.]

You think that's what they're afraid of, that we're going to call them on their bullshit? Sometimes life isn't better here. They just know how to cover everything up so no one asks questions. In Russia, everyone knew things were terrible. In America, people are too stupid to realize they're being lied to.

[Will nods along when Jayden mentions the space shuttle, drawing his legs up and resting his feet on the chair like someone truly at home, truly comfortable where he is. This conversation may be taking place in a technical business, but it's apparent that this business is as much as a home for Will as anything can be. If he wants Jayden to be comfortable, he better make it glaringly obvious that Will's comfortable, too. That there is no need to stand on any sort of pretense. My home is your home, though this home comes with a room full of creepy crawlies and a dog who has now taken to curling up underneath Jayden's chair. The way his tail comes around is just enough to knock against a shoe, too—everything about the two of them screams that this place is safe, political asylum without any government involved.

His eyes fall from Jayden to the spoon in his hand, knowing damn well that it can be even more difficult to say something with meaning if one is under constant surveillance. He needs privacy to do what he does, needs his boss and anyone nearby to fuck off as far as possible. Will can't afford to leave the room for a conversation, but he can turn his attention to something else in the place of it. That's as much as he can do.

Elbows slung over his knees, his loosely interlaced fingers give away that Will is not quite pleased with this information more than anything else, tightening, his own knuckles starting to go white. That's the only sign Jayden gets, the only one Will gives him with his body language. They turn whiter at the question, and Will looks off when he follows it up with stupid Americans.]

Delusion and stupidity are not the same thing. You know the saying "ignorance is bliss," right? Governments need their people to operate under that in more ways than one. The stupidity starts when people jumble up the law to suit their own purposes, not when they go about their daily lives hoping that nothing ruins it. [He looks back, eyebrows raising.] You didn't tell them that, did you? That Americans are stupid.

[It's not that Will is offended as an American.

It's that he knows if Jayden wants to do well with this compliance game, shitting openly on America as a Russian who's already been called in for questioning is a Goddamn stupid idea.]

[He scoffs at Will's question.]

Hell no. I asked if they were gonna charge me with something, and if they were I wanted a lawyer. I had to say it a few times, but I think it got them to let me go.

[A lucky move, since it's clearly not beyond the government to hold Soviet spies without trial. But it worked, somehow.]

I'm assuming it's 'cause they don't have jackshit on me. They were just picking me because I'm Russian. The same thing happened to Yuri.

[The same thing happened to Yuri. The fun thing about having a blank Bingo card in his head is that he forgets it there, and when he hits a Bingo? It's more of a surprise, more of a joy, and more of a pain in the ass. It's also more like a jackpot machine, always ready and spinning quickly to wrong conclusions, capable of reaching the right ones if it's manipulated properly and with a little luck. But Bingo cards are common and cheap and simple and Will wishes he was more like that.

Which Jayden can't have any idea about, for better or worse. Probably better. He might think he was high. But there it is.]

There's a difference between a Russian citizen from here and a Russian citizen from... [He shrugs one shoulder as he looks off, trying to find the word and not latching onto one in particular.] ...that got dragged here. Pissing off other countries isn't a smart idea, but they've got a small grouping of powder kegs who bleat loudly on the devices they've been given, ones they've saddled with powers.

[He shifts his feet closer together, curls inward a bit more.]

I'm sure if you went public with this, it would be pretty bad for them, too. [He's trying to sound neutral, like he wouldn't be in the party that gets upset and ready to fuck people up over this. It's not working very well.] But I wouldn't do that unless you have to.

[You don't have to, goes unsaid. So does the yet at the end. This isn't good news, and what can Will do with it other than keep an eye out and talk to Yuri? What, is he supposed to go back to his old job?

...maybe he should.]

I'm not telling anyone.

[Well, anyone but Yuri and Will. Knee jerk reaction: they asserted their power, made it clear Jayden needs to step in line and be a model Russian-American citizen, and he's been doing that. He isn't a hero, no matter what his tattoo status says. He's too pretty for jail.]

Everyone talks too much on the network. It's going to come back to bite them, probably.

[Even he knows he does it, to an extent. It can be easy to forget. Most of his remembered life everyone has been all about freedom of speech, it's the American way, who could possibly be paying attention? Still, there's certain things you don't share, on the internet or anywhere. He doesn't get why other imPorts are so open about some of it, particularly when it comes to government stuff. That's when Jayden wants to tell them, they got me and they could come for you.

But again, prison isn't appealing, especially when they can just arbitrarily decide not to give people trials.]

[Up goes an eyebrow, and Will rather openly stares at him, looks a bit like he's confused. Which isn't the worst, most uncommon look for him to aim for, but that wasn't what he expected to come out of Jayden's mouth. Jayden, who told the world at large he was Russian and talked about powers to being shitty and everything was crappy and sucked and here he is, displaying a little bit of what Will took as common sense but what some people might consider wisdom. Not putting a bunch of shit on a government-given device is, in his opinion, pretty easy to figure out. And yet.

Apparently asking a lot.

Perhaps Jayden needed to be taken aside for that lesson to sink in. Though, now that he thinks about it, Jayden never said too much, did he? And Jayden is also a teenager, which means he can be given a bit of leeway. But if people bank on that, they make him out to be less, which means he could get away with more until more becomes too much.]

That's because they don't understand the idea behind freedom of speech. Just because you're free to say something doesn't mean you're free from dealing with the consequences of what was said. [And if anyone gets detained for not shutting the hell up on the device, he imagines the blame will be on the government for snooping, daring to pay attention to the people they've stranded here. How dare consequences exist.] Didn't think they'd start by targeting those of us who've gotten Russian blood. Makes it look like their priorities are out of whack, but that's a good look for them.

[Probably really good for them if they decide to finally crack down and no one saw it coming because they'd been thinking the government on the wrong track for so long.

That'd be pretty amazing to watch, actually. Which Will Graham would be doing, watching. It might be an inevitability at this point, and getting to watch instead of being on the government side of things would be a nice, refreshing thing.]

Really? It makes sense to me.

[Not that he likes it, but he can understand.]

There's always a scapegoat. It's that racial profiling shit. In this world it's Russians.

[His ice cream is pretty much gone now, as is his high. He scrapes the back of his hand across his mouth.]

Well, um. Thanks for this.

[There is more on Will's mind of why it does and does not make sense, but he's not going to hold Jayden against his will. He knows what that's like, knows what he'll be going back to, doesn't want to turn into a caretaker himself. And it might just turn the government into even bigger of a bogeyman if he did get into it when they might not be the same he's used to.

So he drops it when Jayden drops it, looks down at the dirty bowl. He's careful, reaches out slowly enough that Jayden can see it coming, and slides it off the table for Gunther to get the first cycle of the dishwasher in.]

No problem. Freezer's always got something in it. Just stop by and take what you want.

[Low and near grumbling his voice might be, it's a sincere offer. Will's got a few people who come and go and take what they want with them, sure, but he could always use another.

Means he gets to buy even more and has another person to blame it on if anyone calls him out for having six ice cream wrappers in his trash can when he had had just changed the trash the day before. A herd of scapegoats, this is his design.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[closed] The trick to life...

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we should probably wrap this soon since Jayden has basically ruined everything lmao

yes it was all his fault. nailed it.