[He's not supposed to be here. Technically, he's not supposed to be doing anything that doesn't fall under the umbrella of "taking it easy" but he went to work today anyway. Abigail told him about it and he did his best to act peronsally uninterested, but he has business in De Chima, has to go by the old house and get what material possessions he has so he can start to finalize the move. That's his excuse if he gets caught; he was in town for business, what's wrong with stopping by an event for a little bit just to see how it's going?
Besides, it's in Virginia. There are few things more appealing to Will Graham than the state of Virginia, even if it's different from the one he knows and hides away from the rest of the world in.
He's not in his usual wardrobe, doesn't stand out in a plaid shirt and overly large jacket that can't hide the plaid disaster beneath it. No, he's a little classier this time around, at least on the surface. The gloves get stuffed in his coat pocket when he makes his way inside, of course, and there is absolutely no interest on his end in any food or drink, no matter how good or hot or whatever "selling" point there might be. His curiosity in the bidding doesn't extend too far. Freddie's surprises him more than worries him, some of the write ups are absolutely tasteless, but that's the sort of thing that sells. Sensationalism and exaggeration trump blunt truths on a constant basis, why wouldn't an event meant to bring in the money cash in on what, well...brings the cash in?
When one of the vendors ends up dropping a breakable cup, Will takes a second to steel himself before reaching down to pick up the piece of it that scatters nearest him. Time reverses. For the cup, if nothing else. All those shattered bits end up back together under his touch and he passes it back over. Still doesn't want anything to drink. Put the drink to charity or something. Or clean that cup out and fill for whoever else might be passing by, he doesn't want it. Arguing with a vendor makes more of a scene that what it has to be, though, so it doesn't last too long.
Okay, fine. He'll take water. Begrudgingly. In fact, anyone who comes across him at any point in his trip through the place probably notices that the vibe he's giving off is more in keeping with the Scrooge or the Grinch than anything or anyone who believes in the magic of holidays. There is a heart, maybe. Somewhere under the ooze of hurried bah humbug gifted with the power of fixed broken cups.
Will Graham | Silent Auction | Open
Besides, it's in Virginia. There are few things more appealing to Will Graham than the state of Virginia, even if it's different from the one he knows and hides away from the rest of the world in.
He's not in his usual wardrobe, doesn't stand out in a plaid shirt and overly large jacket that can't hide the plaid disaster beneath it. No, he's a little classier this time around, at least on the surface. The gloves get stuffed in his coat pocket when he makes his way inside, of course, and there is absolutely no interest on his end in any food or drink, no matter how good or hot or whatever "selling" point there might be. His curiosity in the bidding doesn't extend too far. Freddie's surprises him more than worries him, some of the write ups are absolutely tasteless, but that's the sort of thing that sells. Sensationalism and exaggeration trump blunt truths on a constant basis, why wouldn't an event meant to bring in the money cash in on what, well...brings the cash in?
When one of the vendors ends up dropping a breakable cup, Will takes a second to steel himself before reaching down to pick up the piece of it that scatters nearest him. Time reverses. For the cup, if nothing else. All those shattered bits end up back together under his touch and he passes it back over. Still doesn't want anything to drink. Put the drink to charity or something. Or clean that cup out and fill for whoever else might be passing by, he doesn't want it. Arguing with a vendor makes more of a scene that what it has to be, though, so it doesn't last too long.
Okay, fine. He'll take water. Begrudgingly. In fact, anyone who comes across him at any point in his trip through the place probably notices that the vibe he's giving off is more in keeping with the Scrooge or the Grinch than anything or anyone who believes in the magic of holidays. There is a heart, maybe. Somewhere under the ooze of hurried bah humbug gifted with the power of fixed broken cups.
How magical.]