[Will doesn't return the laugh, instead exhales a bit of air quickly through flared nostrils—good enough, close enough for someone slightly socially awkward. It gets the same message across, and Will was here for that particular theft and announcement, he's had time for it to be less humorous than it originally was. But that all falls flat when Walter turns the topic back to Chilton, Will's lips turning into a thin line and one eyebrow slightly lifting. For a moment, he's a mix of confusion and disbelief, and with their discussion of restraining orders, it would be easy to assume he's confused and disbelieving over what he's hearing. That he'll put up a fight about this. If it got big enough that they couldn't put on their big boy tightie whities and handle it themselves like Goddamn adults, how does that suddenly just change, and why the fuck did Will essentially waste his time coming here?
(He is thinking along those lines; hell if they're coming out of his mouth, though. Not here, not with the risk of them getting back to someone else and his hypocrisy being used as ammunition.)]
That'd be ideal. [Confusion and disbelief give way to relief, and Will runs one hand over his face before they both drop back into his lap with another huff and a legitimate human smile. It's like this is the best outcome, so perfect Will didn't dare to even dream it up because it would never happen. Oh happy day!] We've all got our. Pasts and our issues, but...we can't really be effective or do very well here if we're constantly infighting. [Eating each other alive.] If there could be an amicable resolve to this—that's great. I'll help however I can.
[His eagerness is muted, the old dog that takes longer to get to the door to greet his human friend, but is no less enthusiastic about it. His bones are simply tired, his tail doesn't wag quite as fast as it used to, but he still wants to be pet, and fed, and watered, and given some help to get on the couch when he can't do it himself anymore. He's not some explosive chemical, currently. He just wants to douse the flames and hope something good comes out of it after, ready to adjust to whatever chemicals are needed to put it out effectively. Keep the peace, not disrupt it, work together instead of against.
He can't wait to get home and drown himself in whiskey.]
no subject
(He is thinking along those lines; hell if they're coming out of his mouth, though. Not here, not with the risk of them getting back to someone else and his hypocrisy being used as ammunition.)]
That'd be ideal. [Confusion and disbelief give way to relief, and Will runs one hand over his face before they both drop back into his lap with another huff and a legitimate human smile. It's like this is the best outcome, so perfect Will didn't dare to even dream it up because it would never happen. Oh happy day!] We've all got our. Pasts and our issues, but...we can't really be effective or do very well here if we're constantly infighting. [Eating each other alive.] If there could be an amicable resolve to this—that's great. I'll help however I can.
[His eagerness is muted, the old dog that takes longer to get to the door to greet his human friend, but is no less enthusiastic about it. His bones are simply tired, his tail doesn't wag quite as fast as it used to, but he still wants to be pet, and fed, and watered, and given some help to get on the couch when he can't do it himself anymore. He's not some explosive chemical, currently. He just wants to douse the flames and hope something good comes out of it after, ready to adjust to whatever chemicals are needed to put it out effectively. Keep the peace, not disrupt it, work together instead of against.
He can't wait to get home and drown himself in whiskey.]