maskormenacelogs | (no subject)

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.]

They live in the water?

[ Really, Will. She has no idea. But by the fact she's remaining where she was when he started looking at the sculpture rather than moving on is a a sign she's listening. If he has a story about pulling on up off the coast of Virginia and using it to solve an FBI cold case, she's ready for it. ]

[If April finds his blood-eating monster wolf roommate amazing, how could she not find this to be amazing, too? Perhaps it hinges on how he explains it, means he should explain it less like a teacher and more like the fish enthusiast that he is. So he takes his hand back and goes around the work of art, first off pointing to the twisty bit that might light up when it's dark, he's not sure.]

This is a female anglerfish, one of the deep sea kinds. That little bit right there holds a bunch of bacteria that makes it light up, like a bulb. Sunlight never hits that deep, and she's gotta eat. Also gotta mate. [Another moment looking at it before he shrugs.] Male anglerfish are small, sometimes built in a way that means they can't get prey by themselves. And they can die if they don't find a female in time. So when they do, they bite down on her somewhere— [One finger points along the back, the side, the bottom, pretty much most anywhere.] —and attach as a parasite. They fuse to a very core level, [Oh no, hand gestures, somebody likes his fish.] the male stays alive as long as the female does, and she's got him around to release sperm whenever she wants to spawn. Some of them end up with multiple males attached.

[Will likes fish a lot. Fish are cool. The look on his face when he looks back at her: Aren't fish cool? He thinks fish are cool. If April doesn't think so, let him find the most interesting or grossest or plain strange aspects of any fish to talk about, that's one way to win someone over to the side of fish. Yes.]

[ She hadn't know that. She'd just known shark-like fish and metal scrap art. Truly a combination of their interests if ever there was one. Because she's a weirdo, and she knows the artist, and she just doesn't care, April reaches out and touches the glowing light while he talks. She gets some dirty looks from the actual rich patrons, the people here to buy instead of ones just there to see a fellow broke friend's show. But whatever.

Fuse on a core level. Huh. Yes, Will. Fish are cool.]

I'll tell him to add that to the sculpture.

[Friend of the artist, they can sometimes get away with a hell of a lot. Touching the finished project, suggesting an additional dash of a lesser used color somewhere, murder. Will doesn't even a bat an eye at her treating the art interactively, leaves it up to EAR to wrinkle his nose or look threatening for the both of them in the direction of anyone who finds it inappropriate. Will's too busy walking around it one more time, eyes narrowed, quiet and focused enough to border on solemn.

Trying to imagine the statue as an actual fish, where would the best spot be to attach the parasitic sad male counterpart. A scholar's eye that doesn't quite match when he ends up pointing on the underside right where an "obscene" sculpture might have that addition.]

They're basically just a pair of testicles anyway. [No lies, worse ways to live, he shifts to wiggle just over over the curve of her metal head.] Or there.

[ She smiled, small, creeping, and slightly evil. But he had a good point. This thing could use a little more nature to it. She glances over at the next installation, wondering for a moment...but they aren't fish. Still, interesting nature lies could be just as fun. So she starts to slowly wander over, glancing back to see if Will's just sticking with the fish or not. ]

Can we catch those after the sharks?

[The spread of that villainous smile was noted in the way that Will's own grew fonder with it. And yet, when he catches sight of the next piece of art she moves onto, he reacts far more like someone should upon seeing a creeping evil. Not a bird person at all, he actually takes a step closer to the fish without seeming to realize it. Fish are safer than birds—this particular kind lives so far under the ocean that he'd be really, really dead if he ran into it.

Back home, at least. Here? He could probably gather some valuable data on that which dwells too far below for science to easily reach.]

No. Their territory is pretty out of reach for what the usual team is equipped to deal with. [Sharks? No problem! These things? Fuck that. What a world.] I might be able to, but I can't take human passengers. Crushed under the pressure, stomach could end up in your skull. That sort of thing.

[He can't change human nature, just like he can't change fish nature. There's a shrug before he finally notes he's not following her lead this time and she might find that visible, a glaring difference. So he deals with it, strolling along her wake, birds or no birds.]

You'd probably like to keep your stomach where it is, I'm guessing.

I've never tried it anywhere else. But I'm one of like, two, imports with a no-dying life creed. So. Mm...you'll just have to send me pics or something.

[ Essentially all of her roommates, friends, semi-enemies, you name it, had died or been ported out and back or mind wiped at one point or another. Really, refusing to die or otherwise leave this Earth made her a total rebel in her current social circle.

The hesitation is met with the assumption he just really, really likes the fish. But really, Will. There's a lot more trash art to stroll around, even if he can't give a lecture on each piece. They can come back to the fish. She retraces her steps slightly, though, going to link her arm through his as they more casually stroll.]

But you can go to the bottom of the ocean now?