maskormenacelogs | (no subject)

[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.]

[ And somebody may notice Will is not sure of the difference. Clearly, he is the terrible parent that lets the kid stay up until 1 am and have ice cream for breakfast the next day to win his affection. While April....Well, okay. April is the same, save for the detail of motivation. April lets EAR do those things because she was doing them anyway, why not include the family?

But between the grin and spoiling a raccooon...if this kept up, she might have to circle back to the idea of making out on the train. In fact, even when the train starts slowing down at their destination, she gives a half-second consideration to just blowing off the plan and remaining on the train until she gets her way on that matter, then heading home and calling that the adventure of the day. But she'd said she go. So. Here they go. April unwraps herself from around Will, but uses him instead of the seats as a steadying point as she stands up. One hand stays on his shoulder even as she follows up that standing ordeal with a stretch to get the after effects of slouching out of her back.

About ten seconds until the train stops and doors open. Time to move, old man. ]

God, his breath is going to be terrible. Like Ace isn't bad enough from the ice-fish.

[The terrible parent that lets the kid stay up until the buttcrack of dawn and feeds them ice cream for breakfast and casually lies his ass off about whether or not they did in fact murder people, a very specific brand of terrible parent, that's Will Graham. Though considering raccoons are the kind of animal that kills to eat (usually), and they're also animals—how can he go wrong with a crew of them?

For having confessed to auditory hallucinations and making himself appear all sorts of unstable, he's a damn stable thing, leans just enough to help her out. April's hand on one shoulder, he hauls EAR around to encourage him up on the other. Formerly owned by the government, now owned by Ludgate Industries without a single complaint. Even if EAR starts fluffing through his hair on the search for fleas or other bugs that a shaggy dog fighting fish man must have hidden away, it seems like nothing can bring him down as long as April's there to make cutting comments about the world at large.]

I eat tuna salad by the gallon and you've never complained about my breath. [Probably because Will is perfectly capable of using toothbrush. That is probably the reason there. Or one of them, but he says it like he and EAR have the same habits with dental hygiene and April is being truly unfair. Move along? He is, one hand stuffed in his pants pocket and the other reaching out to take hers again as he steps off. He can do this.] That's what I had for lunch today, actually. [Wait.] Not a full gallon, just a. Sandwich.

[As if the difference truly matters when he has, in fact, washed his mouth out since then.]

Then you can make out with him, instead.

[ She takes his hand and is tugging him along again, walking with more purpose now that they're so close to the final destination. EAR might have to adjust slightly for the increased pace, one paw clinging to the hair instead of digging through it. April's only been here a few times, but during those times she's made this specific walk during each and every one. They're officially a group on a mission.

It's working hours, meaning the streets are semi-packed with the industrious peoples of North Carolina, but, as always, April expects them to move out of her way before she moves out of theirs. It's slightly less effective without a small gang of raccoons walking ahead of her, but EAR chattering away on Will's shoulder is at least getting a few people to blink and move aside. ]

Or keep making sure the alcohol kills the fish flavor.

[A group on a mission, and at least one member still has no idea where they're headed. The burning mystery of what's in store is something he's managed to turn down to more of a simmer, easier now that he's trying to do reverse damage control, twisting as he steps in case someone doesn't get out of the way soon enough and EAR and April both aren't enough to get them completely out of the way. He's got avoiding people down to an art—the little dance step that crops up from time to time seems as practiced and fluid as anything done by a boy band with outrageous hair in a pop music video.]

The alcohol's been doing a better job than I thought. [Mumbled, even more so when one grasping raccoon hand moves from his hair and right up his nose.] I've been working through all of them. Except Eduardo. Don't think it's his thing, but—he's a little old for me.

[He's mimicking her voice, the way the he says it, has picked up on her tone and timbre once more without actively thinking about it.]

Everybody kisses raccoons where I'm from, don't see a reason to stop the tradition.

[1000000000000000000000000% bullshit]

Raccoons are the true horrors of Pawnee.

[ She says it without hesitation or apology- or any trace of irony. There's a reason her home town had had to abandon an entire half of the city, and that reason was raccoons. That April is the queen of them now is more a triumph than anyone else realizes. She is truly the master of her own former fears.]

Just buy Eduardo dinner first. He's a traditionalist. And has hidden scars only the worthy get to see.

He's seen all my scars.

[Grumbled out like a truly petulant child, but when the most prominent scar he currently has his is an old stab wound on his shoulder, it's not really that big a deal. An old injury, now as much a part of him as everything else, though one part of him he doesn't try to hide. Shirt has to come off sometime.]

Must make Halloween more difficult when you're Elvira every other day of the year.

[True horrors who answer to her and treat her like their queen. Uh, who else is she if not the Mistress of the Dark? And who does Elvira go as for Halloween—herself in full regalia or, more terrifying, dressed just like everybody else?]

[ She turns to answer, then, surprisingly, just keeps walking. It's because they're only three, two, one buildings away...and here they are. A small art gallery, of all things, with a few people mingling around inside, drinks and plates of fancy cheese in hand. It's a showing for a local art school, all instructor deemed 'new talent' putting their best on display in the hopes some wealthy so and so will buy it and kickstart their career. This new universe doesn't have modern art like April had known it, but there's still a few pieces made only of scrap metal or garbage, and some drawings that showed more fat tourists hanging out in cemeteries than fruit on tables. Weird art, if not quite post-modern.

She stops directly outside the front door, turning to meet Will's eyes (and, again, ignoring anyone they may be in the way of). She's very clearly trying to gauge a reaction to the 'date destination.']

We're here.

[Slowing down, slowing down, stopped. Mostly stopped—Will takes another step closer to April, though it coincides with taking a step away from a passerby who is staring at EAR on his shoulder with a mix of disgust and surprise, so he'll let her draw her own conclusions on his motivations. Draw her own conclusions while he takes a glance at—

...drawing?

He has gazed at a totem pole of bodies on the beach with an unreadable expression, he can do the same to an art gallery. Is there an event going on? Does April know someone who has a piece on display? Does April want to go around and talk shit about how awful the art is? Does April just like free drinks and fancy cheese?

...is April secretly a budding artist?

He has no idea why they're here. Not a single one. But intrigue takes the place of confusion, his eyebrows go up in interest instead of judgment, and he reaches out for the door, holding it open and inclining his head.]

Ladies first.

[She stopped for him to open the door, not for him to stand there and ask what the hell this was supposed to be. Totally. That's how he'll play it, at least.]

[ Age before beauty pops to mind, but April slides in instead, waiting by the doorway for Will to join her. EAR gets a more than one second glance, but that's the beauty of being a registered import. Flash the hero tag, and a few eccentricities likes 'feral wildlife' get overlooked. Or at least not reported to the police.

April is, in this universe anyway, by no means a budding artist on her own. But she still likes looking at it. Especially the non-traditional stuff. And, as always, she offers no apologies for her taste. Will chooses to go on fishing adventures to mellow out his serial killer hunting, and April goes to art galleries to keep from becoming a serial killer herself when people annoy her too much. But she can give him a hint to that fact, at least. ]

A guy I know's got some stuff. In the back.

[There is a lack of recreated classics on these walls, and he cannot find a single one that features a swan with his beak between a woman's thighs, however explicitly. That's what gets his attention the most, what has him on the verge of enthusiastic. There are people giving him strange looks for the raccoon on his shoulder, he's aware, but he can't be bothered to even address it. In fact, EAR gets Will's other hand coming up just long enough to scratch behind an ear. This storm can be weathered together, they will all be fine.]

"A guy." [He's as jealous as he was when he brought up Troy and completely oblivious to anyone else as he squeezes her hand and still happily follows her lead. Criminal profiler turned bait shop overlord would totally be replaced by a musician or an artist, that was the way of life.] Are you one of his patrons?

[Muse or monetary-wise, it's open-ended.]

Nah, I don't make enough metal waste.

[ Whether she doesn't notice the jealousy through force of will or through simple ignorance is a matter of debate. She'd told him they were a thing, and as far as she's concerned that was the end of the story until one of them brought up the topic again. She doesn't have time for soothing egos 24/7. Unless it's inanimate object related. She could tell Will she likes him more than she likes fluffy pillows just as much as he tells her he likes her more than puns. People are a whole different matter.

But the metal waste comment should have Will prepared for the fact she drags him to a collection of twisted, scrap mental statues in the back. To one of them in particular ]

It reminded me of something.

[His eyebrows knit together at the phrasing, wonders if she knows his first thought about anyone making waste is, well. It's not real jealousy, her ignorance to anything that sounds like it going away for later reference. Did she ignore it because she knew better, did she not pick up on it at all, did she just dismiss it because she doesn't have the desire to soothe egos 24/7? He's still turning it all over when he spots a particular statue first, the stupid goofy grin on his face growing as large as possible when he realizes that's exactly the one he's supposed to be paying attention to.

Good work, him. Much better work, her.

He actually laughs, short but real, and leans in as close as he figures an art gallery allows, squinting to get the full picture from another angle. Hilarious.]

Something? [As opposed to someone. Was it not him she was reminded of, was there more of a story?] Do you know anything about these fish? They're really intense, especially the females.

[He probably seems less of an expert, dopey ass smile and EAR finally finding something in his hair, but if she hasn't done her research and wants to know, well then. Who else is around? Maybe he'll even attach.

Stars and garters indeed.]

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