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WHO: April and Will
WHERE: hook, line, & tinker, then in and around Florida
WHEN: 9-25-14
WHAT: Kidnapping shenanigans
WARNINGS: TBD, none at the moment

[After all the making sure it was fine for her to show up at the house, she naturally came to the store. She didn't even have a member of the raccoon posse on her for once, a super rare event that left her feeling more naked than she'd expected. But she had a mission, and was dressed all in black despite the heat to get it done.

Which was kinda a pointless sacrifice. The stealth clothing was in no way needed seeing as she just walked in the front door of the shop and all, but that wasn't the point. She slid the sunglasses into place only once she was inside the store, solely so that she could look down her nose over them as she took in the store.

It was....fishy.]

Mr. Will Graham?

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[This? This is also fine. This is more than fine. It's great, even, though the last he recalls anyone resting their head along his shoulder, there was a wound where an ear should have been and he felt his stomach tie into knots. April has her ear and Will's stomach doesn't twist or threaten to lurch because of anything truly disturbing, so Nonah?

It is the best city on Earth, even if he's been beaten at a game. This game is much more enjoyable than the others he's more familiar with, and he's damned relaxed walking alongside. He has no idea where she might be thinking of going (if anywhere now), but she's not about to lead him down a bloody path to hell.]

I really did. [Tsk. Did she think he was just saying that to...in front of a raccoon, really?] Just my father and I growing up, he had to move around wherever work was. Never stayed in one place too long, places had to be cheap. Only time I got on those tracks was because I thought I'd found some ripe muscadines growing around it. None of 'em were ripe, all of 'em made me sick. Didn't even notice the train that night sort of sick. [More reason to blow up a train, bad berries. As opposed to being a kid and not realizing he was eating something wrong, no. The train was at fault, damn thing kept him up and attempted to poison him.] Now they're talking about how muscadines are a great source of this and that, really healthy, prevents disease, and I just remember it was what kept me from playing around on train tracks.

[Moral of the story: muscadines can save lives, even when they're not ripe. The underlying implication he's not outright saying: he and his dad barely had two pennies to rub together.]

You ever— [Got food poisoning? Had really bad diarrhea? Played on train tracks because you had as much sense as you had friends? No, no. No.] —eat anything right off the vine?

[Better.]

[ She actually does rest her head against his shoulder as he talks, enjoying the slight tilt to the world as they reach the train proper. There is a plan here. There really is a plan. But half the plan is the journey there and back and, so far, she can't find anything to complain about. And she is April Freaking Ludgate. If there is something to whine about, she has the near superhuman ability to find it.

But, unspoken though slightly obvious through the whole aggressively pursued PDA, she enjoys the closeness. All kinds of it. Even if the follow up question really wasn't what she'd expected- or have picked, in his shoes- she can play back in kind.]

Mm. I got stuck on baby-sitter duty a lot, when my sister was smaller. More like play date, she was not that younger than me, but was a jerk. Zero friends and in a total, passionate love affair with Ritalin.

[Note that 'jerk' and the rest of it comes with approval. Her sister and her were cut from the same sarcastic and semi-nihilistic cloth. Growing up had been a war zone, hacked facebook accounts and stolen and burned clothing everywhere, but it had always been battles fought between equals. And battles hidden from their parents on both sides. There was no crying or tattling in sibling rivalry.

She reaches up part way through her reply, and readjusts his scarf without lifting her head to look at the results. Living with whatever family he had may have been over a decade ago for him, but it was where she'd been when she left home and ended up in the City. April had, in all honestly, never lived alone. Not really, unless you count the two nights before the raccoons started showing up and taking care of her on her arrival in the City. And she never, ever wanted to.]

I got her to test eat things. Not just the vine stuff. Sometimes she'd sneak the stuff that made her sick into my poptarts or whatever, like, a week later. Mom and dad always figured we just passed the flu back and forth or something.

Edited 2014-10-23 03:32 (UTC)

[Normal people in relationships do this sort of thing, don't they? As opposed to stuffing a futon in one party's place of work and pretending to high heaven it's used for anything more than bookkeeping after or before hours and in place of chairs, normally, this sort of thing occurs. Normally, he suspects, the face that gets pulled at the mention of Ritalin has nothing to do with the first question in mind being whether or not it was for an attention deficit disorder or narcolepsy, complete with Ritalin being turned into its methylphenidate and a list of side effects and complications. And yet.

A jerk with zero friends, smaller than most her age due to the love affair, capable of fighting fire with fire at home. Not too much younger but with enough of an age gap that April would be considered responsible by comparison. Responsible but fond, from the sounds of it.

He doesn't look at the results of the scarf readjustment, either.]

Firstborn children are generally given a balance of attention and responsibilities that helps to set them up for success in the future. Always hear it's the babies that get away with murder. [Talking about it in generals as opposed to specifics, that's the way to get away with psychoanalyzing, isn't it?] Meanwhile, we only children get told how it great it must be to be all by ourselves, not dealing with bratty brothers and sisters playing pranks and hogging the bathroom. Everybody misses the huge downside of being an only kid.

[He goes quiet long enough for April to get on the train first and wonder if he's going to spit it out, long enough for dramatic suspense, and then drop the horror of it all with the seriousness of one who is passing along ancient wisdom kept within a specific group and only that group:]

Unless your place is haunted, you've got nobody else around to blame. Pets might knock stuff over, but they don't eat the last of something or bring home the devil's music or use the shampoo without putting it back in the right place.

[Having to own up to his shit and being unable to effectively lie by pointing to someone he is related to by blood, what a nightmare.]

[ He gets a semi-dramatic glance back at that. That did sound awful. She'd always blamed things on Nat, Nat had blamed things on her, her parents had been over-indulging and never cared either way. It was a magical circle of life April had only really appreciated once she was torn from it. Now she just glared people down and dared them to blame her for anything. She wasn't really sure if that made her a better or worse person. Also, didn't care.

She drags them over to a pair of seats instead of immediately replying. She sits next to Will, EAR at their feet, but frowns at the seats for a moment before noting: ]

Everyone needs someone to blame. Like how it's totally my sister's fault I'm in politics. And if they bitch about EAR not paying for a spot, I'm sitting in your lap.

[Devil's music, though. She is storing that one for later.]

[A semi-dramatic glance that is rewarded by a shrug and Will looking around as though the Association of Only Children has agents in every corner who are prepared to take down all who give away their most well-hidden secrets. He has shed led on one of the mysterious hardships as opposed to openly praising the ability to never argue over who gets the bigger game console controller or looking in his closet for a shirt only to realize his little brother took it and Dad told me to get over it ever after he brought it home with a ketchup stain that never came out! Any minute now, he'll be taken away and go through rehabilitation forced upon him by his lonely comrades.

He's not being forced to sit, though, that much is impossible to miss. He's completely fine with it, looks from her to EAR, and almost complains about EAR not paying for a spot himself. Almost.]

Might be good not to do very well in them. She could become a bigger jerk, take all the credit if you succeed beyond all imagination. [He pulls a face, gesticulates with one hand as though to explain the timeline of sibling rivalry victories, the other hand occupied by his arm going behind her back without a hint of subtlety.] If you stay at a lower position and don't do anything truly remarkable, you can saddle her with the blame for mediocrity, which is despicable.

[Mediocrity is despicable, as opposed to framing people for things they didn't do. In this situation, at least.]

Or, if you excel, make sure to excel so much that you have heavily-armed snipers just a phone call away.

[She could give her sister psychologically damaging ammo or she could threaten her with legitimate ammo. Either way, everything is pretty extreme in the game of sibling rivalry, isn't it?]

[She resumes her former position of head on shoulder the second his arm is around her. It was really a position with multiple benefits: one, it was a release for a few weeks of PDA that had been dutiful suppressed at Will's request within Florida and Virginia; two, it was comfortable; and three, it meant she didn't have to look at him while they talked about childhood and family. Topics she was actually interested in covering with him, but not interested in making intense eye-contact during the process. Like the first swing at a new kinky position, before the bad kind of kinks had been worked out.

She even goes so far as to tuck her head under his chin. Deal with it, Graham.]

Mm. I never have to pick, I guess. Either way. The porter doesn't like Pawnee much. I'm not gonna see her again.

[Graham is dealing with it as best he can. He leans in against her, other hand resting loosely in his lap, eyes wandering from the rest of the commuters to EAR as he tries to think of the last time he had this much hair in his face in public. He eventually comes up with the time he didn't shave for a full two months and destroyed three basic shaving razors in the process of getting rid of it before he bought one that was meant to handle that level of grizzled laziness.

April is much more preferable. Though, April talking about the hopelessness of seeing her sister again? Not so much.]

Pawnee. [He's trying to get a proper feel for the word. Which means that even though it comes out in Will's voice, it rather sounds like April said it herself. Six letters that scream her tone, her timbre, the shape of how she talks, just in Will's voice.] That's Native American, isn't it?

[Better to ask about a place than a person, perhaps. He'd rather talk about Wolf Trap than Alana Bloom or Jack Crawford or—well, just about anyone he knows, even the ones here. There is an ache to the town he knows not being the same, but it's a far cry from continual talking about people he may never see again.

Of course, the people Will knows and cares about are not exactly attached to Wolf Trap. Perhaps this is a swing and a miss.]

Yeah. It means 'stupid town in middle of nowhere that exists in exactly one dimension.' Those guys were total fortune tellers.

[ So not really a big inter-dimensional tourist destination. Or a big destination even for people from that native dimension. And this is the most she has talked about home in...a while. When she got tattoos with Rick was probably the last time, more or less a year ago. And while she hadn't mined as much getting annoyingly reflective with her not-father/big brother figure, this was really not sexy kidnapping date chatting material.

So, basically, it was time for a hard subject change to the left. Rather than giving deep thought to it, she just skips a few steps back to the tactic that has been working so far. April's design is pretty obvious, but doesn't mean it can't still be effective. She tilts her head up just a little, her nose hitting his jaw now instead of the top her head. ]

God. The train's slow. Wanna make out?

[Will is all set to follow that train of conversation with a mention of his roommate, and then April goes and destroys every single thing running through his head with a very short question.

It scrambles him, mind jumping from one thought to another:

I am twenty years too old for that shit. There's PDA and then there's this. When was the last time I was asked that? Am I supposed to just say yes? Say yes. No. Don't say yes. Would Eduardo be mad at me if I said yes? Why am I worried about a raccoon, he's not the one who kills people in terrible ways for the slightest rudeness and then puts them on display. Making out in public is probably rude, even when I'm not involved. Have I ever been asked that? Is it possible that throwing up an ear and going to prison is not the deal breaker, the deal breaker is not making out in public? I'm pretty sure I've never been asked this before. I am a terrible boyfriend. I wish my dog was here.]

Uh.

[He is not erring on the side of brevity; he is hiding in brevity. She tightened this scarf too much, didn't she. This was on purpose, wasn't it. There he goes, tugging at it again, looking at the middle distance ahead of him instead of anything else. There is a tension in him that is impossible to miss, particularly since his arm is still around her. Still around her and going through the early stage of rigor mortis.]

Here?

[Someone help Will Graham.]

No. On top of the train.

[ The only weakness of the plan was that it worked too well. She'd broken him. Or at least bent him out of shape for the moment. And it was cute. But also sightly eye roll inducing- which is why April was now pulling back a bit so he could see that eye roll. Talking about family and emotions and stuff was non-eye contact talk. Public indecency, on the other hand, was a conversation April can do without a hint of humiliation or self-doubt. ]

You gotta say it.

[April seems content to spew crap continually and forget it later on, to put up the front that she doesn't care at all, but he's recalling a time where he made it very clear that he was using excuses in the place of the word "no" because he didn't want to say it. Excuses were taken as a "no" and no one was any the wiser, generally speaking.

Until people openly told them as much.

Bad move?]

Say what? [Perhaps April can do this with eye contact, but Will's retreating back to the shell of I do declare, I cannot maintain eye contact because I wonder if people have jaundice or burst blood vessels, and that's not a tasty thought. No eye contact, he shifts in his seat in a manner that screams grumpy, and points to EAR.] Do you really want to be a bad influence on such an innocent youth?

[As opposed to looking around for a human child, he's going with EAR. EAR who is young but, presumably, still old enough to function in adult raccoon society.

He is grasping for every single straw he can possibly find.]

He's Katurian's Child. He has no innocence.

[Katurian Katurian, murder victim extraordinaire. EAR had seen things, man. And April knew it. Katurian's tendency towards tragedy was why she had given the poor man a small animal to look after in the first place.

It's mean, and she knows it, but it's her kidnapping afternoon. So while Will is shifting and looking 50 shades of grump, she's sliding closer. They're still in their own two seats for the moment, but from her chest and stomach, down to the side of her leg from hip to ankle are pressed against him now. A few from the handful of other passengers may have glanced at the pair by now, but she wouldn't know. The weight she puts in their opinion is exactly zero. She and Will may as well just be in the bedroom with only the raccoons and his dumb dog around as far as she's concerned. ]

And, yeah. No, Will. I asked you first.

[ Just in case that semi-dramatic statement about a raccoon will be taken as an excuse for a new game of twenty questions before she gets her make out answer. It may have been a good distraction at first, but, well now that she thinks about it...

It might be nice. ]

[It's not exactly mean, to want a clear answer. Sliding in closer, perhaps a bit. He feels it, draws his head back to look at the space between them beginning to dissolve, I see what you're doing, eyebrows lifting as his lips draw into a thin line. He's so used to having to analyze everything for double, triple, quintuple meanings, but there's really no need for that here, is there? There's no need for metaphors and similes and talk of God and the devil and religious symbolism and psychological factors and illness and everything that taxes and drains but still comes so easily.

The ability to be completely straightforward is one he's still not used to, one that's currently confusing and stressful when it really should not be, but he appreciates it. One step at a time.]

No. [Said without any trace of apology. In his voice, at least. Dogs who were the only one at home when the most expensive vase in the house met its shattered death hold eye contact in similar manners.] If I say it's one of things that's not you, but me, would you believe it?

[It's really all him, he knows. Well, all the people around him in this universe more than it's him, but they're a part of him, too, whether he wants them to be or not. For how cliche it is, this time, it's right on point.

It's nice to be able to relate to something that's commonly used, commonly used for lies as much as it is for the truth. It has absolutely nothing to do with April. She should be able to realize that, he thinks.

She's, like, totally fucking awesome. It can't have anything to do with her. Duh.]

[ She is totally fucking awesome, indeed. And Will has no one to blame but himself for the short huff that answer receives. If there'd been an instant no, she would have just smirked and moved on. Honestly, that had been the plan. It had been more a Random Thing April Says than actual plan before he'd hesitated. Which, to her, sent a clear 'Interested, But My Crippling Imaginary Old Age Says I Can't' signal, and that had perked her own genuine interest. Like when the owner grabbed the shoes and the leash. Seriously, what possible sign could it be other than a walk? But, no. It was just rearranging the closet. Boring grown up stuff.

But she has an answer and there's nothing she can do. Except remember there was always the train ride back to flirt with the subject again, after the sun had set. For now, after that all important huff, she simply readjusts his scarf back to its former position before resuming hers. Head on shoulder, hips no longer shoved against his, the whole shebang.

Ugh. Caring was the worst. ]

We're about to be there, anyway.

[It's probably for the best that April assumes all his hesitance comes from Crippling Imaginary Old Age, otherwise the conversation turns decidedly depressing in more ways than being closer to the grave thanks to the amount of birthdays he's racked up. Boring grown up stuff indeed.

The fingers on her shoulder gently tap out a rhythm, though he's not sure April is a Styx fan or not and can pick up on it. Or if she could pick up on it should it be hummed. It's probably just taken as fidgeting, which—could be worse. Could be him screwing up the scarf again.

Shit, what are they supposed to do? This is awkward, isn't it? He has a pad of paper, he could reveal his age with tic-tac-toe. Or MASH, he remembers that one. What about the I Spy game, that's supposed to be popular with road trips, isn't it? I spy with my little eye, something not morbid at all. That's a difficult one.

He opts to extend his foot just enough to gently nudge EAR, hey buddy.]

Good thing we're in North Carolina before season opens. [Season meaning hunting season, though Will is operating on the rules of his world. He has yet to look into "game" here, just fish. Something not morbid at all is difficult to come by.] I had a raccoon in my chimney once back home. Sounded like a raccoon. [Sounded more like crazy, but.] So I took a sledgehammer to it. Managed to get out before I could get to it myself, but...the trash outside was overturned and all over the place next morning. I'm assuming it was a raccoon.

[As opposed to one of his dogs or something else, anything else. His hallucinations might walk around the halls of the Academy, but they don't interact with it. Still, the additional evidence of a destroyed trash can does point to a raccoon, doesn't it?

Even if they were here during hunting season, Will Graham wold fuck someone up for trying to mess with a raccoon, even if he sometimes nudges their butts in an annoying way. That's the lesson here.]

Maybe Santa needed some to steal some fish and plaid. And got vowed revenge when you stopped him.

[ You're on the naughty list, Will. Don't mess with Santa's breaking and entering hobbies during the off season. But whether April takes a story of him destroying the chimney any more seriously than she took his tales of blowing up trains isn't apparent. He hasn't taken a sledge hammer to a raccoon not hidden behind a brick wall while here, and that's all that really matters.

Her own hand had found a home on his knee, but she isn't tapping out any codes or songs from the says of yore. Just being a not-making out couple in public, no big deal...and she'll let go of the not making out thing in a minute. Once thing actually get rolling again. EAR, on the other hand, has taken the small harassment as a sign to come climb up the leg to sit on Will's lap. Clearly he takes after April when it comes to taking a mile after being given half an inch. It's time to pet the beast. ]

You should just leave cookies out next time.

[ To tempt the raccoon out or appease the kleptomaniac Santa. It was a tactic that could apply to both. ]

[Will does not at all mind EAR in his lap (would be different if EAR was an ear, of course). In fact, the moment EAR takes the mile after being given an inch? Will spreads his legs to open up more room in his lap, reaches down to give him a hand if he needs it, and—oh hell, he's going to pet and scratch ears and treat EAR like he'd treat one of his own dogs. This is not a petting, if he can get away with it. This is full blown physical affection that stops short of cooing or baby talk. He looks him in the face and smiles in the way that he has sometimes smiled at April and it may be imagined he might have smiled as a train blew up, but at least one member of their party is not being put out by the addition to Will's lap.]

Couldn't have been Santa, it wasn't Christmas. [Gosh, April doesn't know anything, does she? Come on, Santa is only around one night of the year, to leave presents and to steal and kiss people's mothers. He's definitely talking to April, but good God, his focus is right on EAR's little face his cute little face.] It was actually just an auditory hallucination, but the trash can was on its side in the morning. Had a raccoon somewhere. Not in the chimney.

[So much easier to be honest when there is an animal getting some of his attention.

Perhaps April will note this.]

You ripped apart your house for an imaginary animal?

[ April obligingly shifts so Will can better accommodate the littlest raccoon, the hand on his knee transferred to scratching the little brat's back for now. Someone is going to go home and lord over his brethren the sheer amount of treats, trash, and affection he received today. And that was a good thing, in her book. Maybe then the rest of them will take their paperwork and other household duties slightly more seriously and earn their own time in the spotlight.

She's mildly impressed by that confession, though- and not just because he's actually making it. She still hadn't asked about a single one of the pills, but unlike most of what comes out of her mouth, these bits and pieces do get remembered and put towards filling in the puzzle related to them. But most of the impressed comes from how far he'd go for a raccoon he didn't even know. Not that she'd had many doubts, but it does make her slightly more confident in the whole bringing raccoons near a house with coyotes hanging around it. Will'd figure out the safety measures.

But still. That was only a house. Any real person that loved animals more than humanity would destroy one of those to even maybe help an fuzzy friend.]

Mm...What if a mad villain told you the only way to save EAR'd be to throw all your punny clothing into the sea, and never speak or sell any of it again?

[The way April phrases it, at first, causes him something like worry. He glances at her, that smile falling. It's a brief display, because he soon goes back to toying with EAR. The hand on her has stopped drumming, rests loosely, momentarily dead weight in the face of a judge that can either serve to turn it actually dead, give it time served, or let it all go.

At least, until her actual sentence is carried out. Will retracts his arm slowly, curls his other around EAR, and draws him against his chest like a parent does a newborn. Skeptical, confused, he is putting distance between the two of them.]

You're telling me I need to get off at the next exit and make a speedy return to Virginia. [With EAR in tow, of course. Katurian's Child has found a new father.] Someone's been threatening him? They'll never find him.

[So no, Will's not closing his shop. But in the hypothetical situation that EAR is in danger, he can do one better: steal the furry little beast back home and put him in the extra dog bed. Joke that it all might be, it's pretty damn evident that Will wouldn't tolerate any of her raccoons in danger.

Papa Wolf doesn't eat raccoons. He saves them. Saves them while side-eying their master, one finger still scratching under a fuzzy chin. Animals are just all right with Will.]

Mm. My raccoons are totally high on the list of the enemies of America.

[ One, two, three, and the dead serious look she had adopted the moment she was forced to lift her head and look at him due to his movements dies in yet another eye roll related tragedy. ]

No. God, the raccoons are fine. Even Mitch couldn't stop them. But I think you like puns more than you like me.

[That he was now willing to run off the train with her raccoon and leave her behind over possibly burning some shirts is only supporting this theory. That he had willingly and intentionally deprived her of the warm, happy shoulder rest she was enjoying was not helping his case much either, here. But, mainly, the whole auditory hallucinations, where are they now? conversation is not happening on her kidnapping date afternoon as far as she's concerned, and she's more than happy to let that discussion slip away in the stream of conversation. Addressing her jealousy regarding Will's apparent prioritizing of keeping the puns safe over April and her extensions is a much more ridiculous option for the moment.]

[The accusation is one that gets a frown, EAR still coddled close to him unless he chooses otherwise, though why would he? Even in Will's moments of sad thoughtfulness, continuing to show an animal some affection comes as naturally as breathing. As long as EAR stays where he is, fingers will scratch his chin, ruffle his ears, stroke along his neck. No reason for everyone to suffer.]

That's not true. [He sounds so serious about it, too. April clearly believes it as much as she believes every other thing that can be considered a "given." Gravity, the sun is hot, Will Graham likes puns more than he likes her.] They sell well, it's part of the business. Bring in money. Extra padding to the profit, and profit stalls in the later parts of the year.

[The logical explanation comes out easily enough, even if he can't maintain eye contact during it. If EAR is okay with it, he will use him as a distraction again. He will roll that raccoon on his back like a damn baby and give his tummy all the adoration a human father would give his own child. It's kind of sad, cradling a normally wild animal as he is, and it would be embarrassing if Will gave a shit.]

Is it the puns that bother you or... [Still looking at EAR, though his head inclines in her direction.] ...is it that I spend more time with them than I do with you?

[He would much rather have his time monopolized by April Ludgate than a serial killer.]

[ He couldn't just say yes to a dumb theoretical. 'Of course, April. The hats will rain from the heavens to save poor EAR. And the sharks will wear them and torment the Russians on a whole new level.' Oh, no. She should have seen it coming. She keeps throwing the conversation into inane territory and he keeps pulling her back to things about...them. That fact that April's definition of inane is a highly relative one is clearly beyond the point.

She slouches back in her seat, leaving the raccoon adoration shift to Will for the moment as she looks out the window on the other side of the train. Did it bother her? Ugh.

God, she was not this girl. ]

What's not true?

[ The answer to his question is apparently April didn't want to sort out her own motivations, thank you. Instead, she'll choose being slightly petty and making him say it. Say you like her, Will. Feed the ego. Then she can just react to the moment that comes after that without thinking about any actual underlying reasons for whining about puns or anything else for that matter. Just enjoy being liked back. ]

That I—

[It's out before he can stop it. Hasn't she been following the conversation? Hasn't she figured it out? Of course she has. Of course she knows. But implications are not the same as outright saying something, and one can only handle the implied appreciation so much before they start to crave it being made obvious in some capacity.

It's just so very strange for anyone to want that from him. He looks up from his spot with the almost purring raccoon, trying to keep all signs of disbelief off his face and out of his voice, and leans back to bridge the extra distance, to talk a little quieter...while he still cradles the trash-eating child.

If someone looked at them and thought that he was holding a baby dressed up like a raccoon and leaning in closer because he didn't want to wake said baby up, no one could find fault with it. That's exactly what it looks like.]

I like you more than anything in my shop. [The shop with the bugs, might not seem too difficult to top to an outsider. He realizes it, shakes his head a little, adds:] I like you more than most people, too, and that's not because of the raccoons.

[The raccoons are a bonus.

They are not a why.

No offense to EAR, of course. No offense at all. He gets a boop on his nose.]

Edited (to and too are different words except for at 1:30am) 2014-10-26 06:32 (UTC)

[ Honestly, the store thing might mean slightly more than the people thing in the world of April, but she appreciates the effort. Enough so that she doesn't so much sit up from her slouch as curl towards him, sneakers on the edge of the seat now with not one hint of care for getting dirt where it shouldn't be, and the hand not now trapped between her and the seat coming up to push some of his (still a while away from being cut) hair away from his face. ]

I like you more than most people, too. Now hypnotize the raccoon. We're getting off next stop.

[His face brightens when she touches his hair, gets the same smile out of him generally reserved for seeing his dog after a day apart. Will Graham does not have a tail to wag, but EAR's starts flicking back and forth at the same time as if to make up for Will's lack of one. Not for no reason—April gives Will a bit of touch and the tickling fingers on EAR's belly quicken. They look both ridiculous and contented in the moment, and it takes Will a moment to tear his eyes off of her. Oddly smitten, this one. Oddly smitten and no longer caring about personal space, shifting to curl in towards her, too. Not close enough to get a mouthful of hair again. Not yet.

To hell with that seat, it deserves shoe dirt.]

All right, EAR. You're feeling very sleepy. [Looking him dead in the eyes, he can't get the stupid grin off his face. In fact, it gets worse. All he needs is a pacifier and the illusion that the raccoon is not an animal is complete.] And if you do everything like you're supposed to, next time you see me? [Aw, they're divorced. Separated. Amicably meeting up from time to time, that must be it.] I'm going to have a whole bucket of freshwater clams with your name on the side.

[What is the difference between hypnosis and bribery? Somebody might not know.]

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