[OPEN] you see, i am the wolf, and this dirty little piggy lives inside of me

[infomodder]

WHO: Will Graham + YOU!
WHERE: All over
WHEN: Month of May (he will not be around the 15th-19th)
WHAT: Making friends. Losing friends. Getting experience with his shadow stag power. Aggressively playing pool. Fishing. Stuff and things, Coral.
WARNINGS: Standard Hannibal warnings apply (cannibalism and murder and sadness and season 2 spoilers). If anything else crops up, I will edit to add.
NOTE: Everything's been written up in prose, but if you'd prefer to do action, just reply with it and I'll match! And if you'd like a specific starter, shoot me a PM or something and I'll write it up in comments.




I. AROUND NONAH: Are we out of the woods? Are we in the clear yet?

He'd have gone to De Chima, had he not been there so recently for work, had he been sure he could keep himself from stopping by the old house. Worse, going into the old house, seeing if Mike Parker was there, perhaps checking in on his religiously conflicted roommate. Going to Virginia for leisure time is bound to end poorly, bound to have him finally giving up and checking in on this universe's version of Wolf Trap. Better to avoid all that inevitable mess by going somewhere else entirely.

So he opts for Nonah, and after going through the city itself, finds a nice patch of woods that doesn't seem too used. Seems more like the place where joggers go for morning and evening routines than anything popular, where parents might bring their children or couples might take to for a quiet, slow stroll. Once the noises fade to nothing but nature, he loses his shadow to its new, stag self, to get a better feel of how it works. They'll walk side-by-side as much as the stag decides to explore, bolting for a particularly playful squirrel, scraping his antlers on a nearby tree for reasons Will doesn't want to think about. Same with any rolling in mud. Probably just enjoying his freedom to be a strange, shadow stag; that's the story Will chooses to take on and believe as true. Every now and then, it might smack as more dog than deer, stumpy tail wagging, but Will doesn't pay that any mind, either. The thing's never far out of his sight—until something (or someone) truly interesting and not yet in Will's line of sight comes around, of course. Leave it to Will to not find this of too much concern and continue to take his time, walking fashion disaster that he is. Don't worry! That shadowy creature means no harm, and the guy following after who doesn't cast a shadow at all despite whatever sunlight is around has covered himself in a truly terrible plaid shirt and jeans that are two or three wears from being worn out. No threats here.

II. HEROPA: have you been herring a lot about the hook line and tinker?

Will doesn't work at the bait shop anymore, not technically. He is, however, still the owner, and that means he has to be involved. He's a little more involved than some of his employees might actually like, but at least whenever there's a minor issue plaguing the place, he can generally take care of it. If he can't, he knows who can. So every now and then, for anyone stopping by (or just looking in), they'll find a still plaid-clad Will Graham sporting a ridiculous hat that's clearly been worn by him for a while, however off and on. It fits his head, and the fishing hook stuck on the brim of it has been there so long it's created a dent. But Will isn't behind the counter or going through the shelves to fix them. Nah, he's the guy in the corner on a stepladder fixing some busted part of the ceiling or wall, or fiddling with wiring. He rather looks like the repairman.

If someone stops by to see him, specifically, here he is. If someone stops by with a question that the staff either can't answer or doesn't feel equipped to answer as well as Will can, he'll be pointed out as well. Yes, go ask the guy making an effort to center the WRIGGLE ROOM sign after it last fell about fishing seasons. That guy who's cleaning the front windows in the wake of the Flare and dragons alike will know far better than the person behind the counter why the hell the lures are different colors. Go pester him, he has the answers, he's the owner.

III. HEROPA 2 NAUTICAL BOOGALOO: We ain’t only fishin’

Will owes plenty of people fishing trips. Want to go fishing? Who the hell wouldn't? His preference is for standing around all day in waders, but if someone would rather go out, he'll get a boat. How accommodating.

IV. HEROPA 3 RETURN TO THE HOMELAND: Flowers and trees depress and frankly bore me

There is a house with a yard that's well kept but not much to speak of just yet. The dogwood tree in the center of it is in need of some nourishment and time without the world being in ruins to get back to its former glory, and the scattered beds of flowers weren't in any particular order. Until today, that is. Will's out with his sleeves rolled right over his elbows, bearded dog providing help by doing the best thing he can in this situation: lazing underneath some shade and taking a nap. He's got all the tools he needs, pots with plants waiting to be transferred over, dirty hands bare instead of covered with gloves. He's not dealing with anything too thorny or prickly, so there's really no need for that, is there?

Except for the fact that the soil he's using contains manure, and says so right on the bags waiting to be tossed out with the rest of the trash. Whatever, it's all as organic as organic gets, he'll just wash them more thoroughly than usual and everything will be fine.

V. MAURTIA FALLS LIBRARY: Take a look, it's in a book!

He isn't even certain if he can check out anything, considering where he lives and all, but he's been through the Heropa library more times than he can count. It's good to expand one's horizons, isn't it? Maurtia Falls could have something on their shelves Heropa doesn't, so while he's there and following the rule of minding his own damn business, he stops by just to see. Curiosity isn't always a bad thing, after all. Will pointedly avoids any sections that have to do with crime, true or fictional. Fiction is supposed to give him an escape, and hopefully nonfiction will teach him about something that isn't his usual. Why even bother looking at books that won't do either? It's always much better to bump into someone who has a stack of books that relate to dogs, fish, the history of railroads, and what appears to be the first in a series about magical cats that can travel through space and have kept their secret from humans for all of eternity, isn't it? Because that's what Will's going for. Magical alien cats.

VI. BARS, BARS EVERYWHERE: He drinks a whiskey drink, he drinks a vodka drink

Will keeps a rotation of bars in his head, places with a little more shade than usual. No loud and booming music, no crowd of youths looking to get their groove on. Will's more comfortable in the quiet sorts where the jukebox plays "oldies" and no one has any complaints about it. These are the nights were he slaps his watch over that tattoo to keep himself as much of a nobody as, well, everybody else in the dim, sometimes smoky lighting. His pool game isn't anything to write home about, but he's steadily getting better, with the goal to one day wipe the floor with Hank Schrader. And because some of these bars are the places that don't ask questions, or have family members of the owners (or their friends) coming through just a year or so shy of the legal drinking age, Will keeps his job and this aspect of his life completely separate unless there is a real need for someone to step in. He's not a complete hog at the pool tables, though, and some affable competition is bound to only help improve his game. Loser buys the drinks—what a great deal.

Comments

[abduxel]

"I'm sold," he reinforced, even as he looks over at the shirts skeptically. He's never owned a graphic t-shirt before.

He heads over to the rack. Some of these are horrible. Don't get him wrong; Abduxel loves bad jokes. But the colours... Can't we go to Hot Topic? He finds the only black shirt in the rack, pulls it out, and holds it up.

"Is this fine?"

[infomodder]

"Would you believe that's one of my top sellers?"

Sellers. Sailors, Matthew. Will is a terribly sad individual who has had so few spots of light in his life, he'll take a bad bit of wordplay or pun and enjoy it far more than he should just because it's not dark and miserable. Though Matthew's choice does confirm his whole profile about prone to suggestive remarks, Will can't find any fault in it. Wally West had nearly choked to death when he saw the glorious Master Baiter shirts up close and personal. Perhaps it was just one of those things that could always be worth a laugh, no matter how old someone got. Like farts. No, Spencer's. They're crasser!

"Black attracts the sun, so if you're fine with additional heat, don't have anything to complain about on my end. I'll fetch some waders from the back, and you can use the break room to change if you don't want to do it where you can be seen."

He's totally not checking out Matthew's ass or anything when he glances, he's just got to make sure he gets a good, fitting size. Having been conditioned to openly discuss cannibalism without any muss or fuss, his whole heat bit comes across as just making sure Matthew's aware of it, not a hidden I know what you are, say it waiting in the wings. How could he? He's just some dingbat who likes to fish, clearly.

[abduxel]

Sorry, Will, Abduxel doesn't get his sellers joke, instead taking the quip at precisely face value. But prone to suggestive remarks, that's top-notch detective skills.

"I believe it," he responds dryly, turning the shirt to look at its hilarious and amazing joke again, though his expression doesn't much change.

"The heat doesn't bother me. Can never be too warm, really; it's cold that I hate." He's joking to an audience he doesn't expect to get the joke, seeing no reason Will would know about him, in part because he doesn't realize that he and Mike Parker are acquaintances. More than acquaintances, really. Belly-rub buddies. Of course he does also know that Will interviewed the good priest, and so, true to his moderately obnoxious nature, he's already started with the smug little subtle hints.

Abduxel waves away the concern about changing elsewhere. He just slips off his suit jacket, undoes his shirt and places them carefully on the counter before pulling his new purchase over his head. He has to pull it extra wide with his hands not to have it rub or catch revealingly all over his invisible horns. If Will sticks around a moment, there's plenty of time to check out his abs, pecs and back, all of which are marred by huge scars obviously caused by slashes and stabs of small bladed weapons.

[infomodder]

Look, Will did not know that Mike could be a dog, so when a limping, whining rottie came flopping up on his lawn, what else was he supposed to think except that this was dog number two, destined to take up the empty dog bed in his room? It was a one-time thing, God.

Will doesn't stick around to check out any abs or pecs (he gets that from Jeff Winger enough as it is, he does not need any more internal agonizing about his inadequacy when it comes to never ever being able to have a six pack), so he misses out on the scar show begging to have silver dollars popped off of it. No, Will goes to get just what he said, a smashing pair of black waders, this pair with the boots built right in. If Matthew wants to be warm, fine by Will. Can't handle the heat, get out of the sunny stream.

Okay, he's not that cruel. There will be shade. Working in the shadows is just so comfortable and familiar.

"Don't have any pants around here, unfortunately. Just these." But the way Will twirls them and looks them over is akin to what another man might do with a pair of perfectly tailored suit pants from a big name designer. "If you're sure about risking the pants, then this is the best I can give you. I keep all my stuff in the car."

So he's always ready to go. He is a boy scout of fishing, prepared in ways others might be envious of. Or just find really sad, either way.

[abduxel]

"Wait, what are these for? Don't you sit in a boat when you fish?"

And the point of the boat is to keep out water. Right? But he'll take them, and pull them on over his pants, completely guessing that this is customary and that he shouldn't first de-robe in this case.

He feels completely silly in this t-shirt; he's been here a few months, but no one in his actual human life dressed so casually, ever, and so it's still an unexpected adjustment. The t-shirt is already bad enough, so might as well just go for it and wear these silly waders, too. How could his fashion-dignity get any worse, really.

As Will responds, Matthew will be ready to start strolling out to the car while chatting.

[infomodder]

"Some people do. Sort of fishing I prefer doesn't involve a boat, though."

Will's closing up the shop procedure is a simple one. Turn off all the lights, lock the room filled with bugs, lock the front door...shoot off a text to one of the people he has on payroll and tell them they're free to finish out the day if they'd like, something came up. Truth be told, there is no right or wrong way to Will Graham when waders are involved. If Matthew wants to sit in the car in them, so be it. Will's happily come home from a good day in the creek and sat around in a pair for longer than he needed to. The car which is not too far from the shop and isn't anything to write home about, but it is, at least, clean. It might have the lingering scent of fish and a few rogue animal hairs, but that's about it.

"You ever ridden with the police before?"

He's so fucking funny.

[abduxel]

Matthew shadows him around, clomping along in his waders, watching Will's actions with neutral curiosity. "Are we spearfishing? I don't know if you should trust me around sharp objects." He clearly has no idea how any of this works.

Does he mean something by that? It's hard to say, because he himself has no idea.

The police comment makes him laugh. He quips sarcastically as they walk to the car, "Me? Oh, never." He gets into the passenger seat, snooping around at everything his gaze can reach with unashamed - albeit lazy and idle - nosiness. He opens the glove compartment, even.

[infomodder]

Will makes no move to stop the glove compartment snooping, disinclined to what? Smack at his hands like he's a misbehaving child? There's not much for him to find anyway. Other than title and registration and the owner's manual, there's a temporary badge from Internal Affairs with Will's name and what could almost pass for a mugshot on it, an unopened travel package of tissues, a bottle of bug spray, and a small bag of Bronzefish. They're basically Goldfish, only they're thinner, and instead of wearing rad, badass shades, the mascot wears a tie. All in all, it's official. And sad. God, it's sad.

"It's called fly fishing. And the rules to riding with law enforcement are pretty simple—buckle up."

And shut up, but that's rude. Will buckles in like it's as natural as breathing and starts the car anyway. Matthew can totally obey or refuse, at which point Will might just do everything he can to get them pulled over and pass his not-wearing-your-Goddam-seatbelt-are-you-super-cool-now-or-just-out-money-and-also-an-idiot fine across the way with an unspoken I told you so.

But that's also rude.

He'll just think it.

[abduxel]

Don't worry, Will. Matthew may be a demon with super-healing, but he'd still prefer not to be maimed at any given time. He does his seatbelt up. Not drawing attention to his, frankly, rude and snoopy behaviour, he just closes the glove compartment, but not before removing that bag of Bronzefish, which he starts eating from.

"So, Will," chomp chomp, "Tell me about yourself. You and Dr. Chilton worked together. He's a very colourful personality. Would you say that you're friends?"

[infomodder]

Will doesn't even seem to register what Matthew's done until the chomp chomp hits his ears, and even then? He gets a quick glance, Will making sure he's eating the sad remains of the glove compartment instead of anything else, and that's it. He has nothing to say to such rude and snoopy behavior, and it's not like he can't afford another bag of Bronzefish.

"Sure." A lackluster reply if there ever was, but there's no bite, no growl, no hidden bitterness. Friends? Sure, they can use that word. Will's issues stem from the word itself rather than it being used in regards to he and Doctor Chilton anyway (mostly). "But I don't think my relationship with Doctor Chilton is really conducive to telling you about myself. Unless you're a believer in birds of a feather flock together, I suppose."

If Matthew notices how people drive, he'll notice that within city limits? Will is very mindful of speed, stop signs, pedestrians, one of those perfect drivers. But once they get out of that, the whole perfect driver rather goes out the window. Will doesn't exceed the speed limit by extreme degrees or act like he's got no sense, but the whole caution from before isn't the same.

[abduxel]

"No," he responds. "People like meeting others that they see themselves in, I think, but I don't think you're at all like Dr. Chilton. But the company a man keeps does say a lot about him, anyway, doesn't it?"

Chomp chomp.

What company does Abduxel keep? Devils and sinners. That's about right.

"But I don't know much else about you," he continues, idly looking out the windows. "Except that I hear you're exceptionally empathetic. Do you empathize with fish when you catch them?"

The question is posted innocently, like he just thought of that idea and it tumbled out carelessly.

Chomp chomp.

[infomodder]

Shithead.

"You should know better than to believe everything you hear."

Nicer than his initial thought to mention that the Bronzefish might be expired, and he's currently empathizing with Matthew's stomach. But that brings to mind, clearer than before, what he's heard about Matthew and his various issues. Will doesn't believe Mike would lie to him about something on that scale, not at all, but it never hurts to have evidence. So with another look in the mirror (where someone hung a dog-shaped air freshener at one point; it's lost any smell it ever had), Will frowns and adds in the most grumbling, irritated tone possible:

"Jesus Christ, this guy has been riding my ass ever since we pulled out. What's that say about the company he keeps, you think?"

He even keeps the emphasis away from the name of the big JC! This is a natural, swear-ridden complaint about people who won't get off his tail. Thanks, Mike Parker.

riding your ass eh will

[abduxel]

Dick.

"Well, is it wrong?"

Abduxel doesn't have any reason to think Will knows, so when he says the name of Christ, it doesn't jump to mind that it was on purpose. If Will had been any stranger on the street, the wince that passes over Matthew's face would appear subtle enough to be a complete coincidence, nothing at all to pause over. But with the two of them alone like this, for someone who is looking for it, that flinch is exceedingly obvious.

He doesn't remark beyond flinching. He speaks after it happened like nothing strange had gone on at all. But his eyes do flick to the rear-view mirror, to see if Will is looking, before he looks behind them entirely to look at the tail-gater.

"Maybe he wants to come fishing, too," he quips dryly.

tail-gator

[infomodder]

Property of April Ludgate.

Will is definitely looking for any reaction that particular name causes, though in the way that it's not obvious. His eyes cast around, from the mirror to the road in front of them to the dwindling bag of Bronzefish—he wants to be alert and focused on the task at hand (or wheel, as it may be), but if Matthew finds him scattered, well! That whole empathy issue is a can of worms, why wouldn't he need a moment or two to pull together how to address it, where to even start?

"He's shit outta luck, then." Yes, look at all this empathy. He is overwhelmingly concerned about the tail-gater's feelings, he is bordering on a mental breakdown about a poor, impatient stranger. "It's only wrong when people misunderstand what empathy means—no, I don't empathize with fish when I go out. I wouldn't fish if it gave me grief."

It fed him after he'd taken life, bled it, pulled out its guts, and cooked it. Why would he be aggrieved at all by any of that?

Oh.

chomp chomp

[abduxel]

Will being subtle and Abduxel not being exceptionally perceptive with regards to human behaviour, the demon is unaware if his human fishing-buddy has noticed his flinching at the name of Christ. Seeing no reason to raise his guard, he remains relaxed, although he really hopes Will doesn't make a habit of saying that, because it's going to give him a headache.

"I never did well in English class," he says casually. "Does empathy only work on other humans, then?"

This isn't a clever baiting; this is Abduxel forgetting himself and using the word human instead of person.

Finding his manners suddenly (sort of), he holds out a stale Bronzefish to Will. "Want one?"

[infomodder]

Will doesn't find the phrasing too odd, thanks to having been stuck in this superpowered mess of a world as long as he has. There are humans aplenty. There are also types who look but aren't, and some that don't look human at all but seem to function in a similar manner. He picks up on it, but he doesn't think it's really out of place. Look where they are—what's out of place in a world where people can fly and, apparently, Mars is something of a Western?

"No thank you." Manners are important, even when there's a demon riding in the passenger side of his car and eating out of his glove compartment. "I've only ever used it on humans. At least back home—I suppose a few of the cases I've been looking into here might be from something other than human. It's...I'm not sure yet, and shouldn't really. Discuss it too much."

Father Daniels' mind was a mess the likes that was both familiar and shockingly not. The difference between memories tampered with by using drugs and manipulation of sickness and...whatever the hell had happened there was an astounding one that left Will, for lack of a better word, reeling.

"I'm sure you understand."

[abduxel]

Suit yourself, he thinks, popping the offered bronzefish into his own mouth instead. You snooze you lose. Aren't dogs supposed to like scraps?

"Of course, I understand. Confidentiality, and all that," he replies easily, but he's a predictable snoop and it won't last long. He wonders briefly if Will's empathy works on him; he's interpreted it much like a power without questioning that assumption, but realizes he isn't sure if this is some passive sixth sense or an ability that can be toggled. If Will's ability didn't work on non-humans and it was passive, he would already know. So, he asks.

"Does that kind of empathy happen... automatically? Do you know what I'm feeling now?"

Excitement and overwhelming curiosity, that's what he's feeling, and it would be palpable if any empath tried to snoop. He's restraining himself, as his urges veer on the side of bloody, mentally invasive, and aggressive - what he wouldn't give to do a little memory-dredging on Will borne out of blood-magic. He likes that Will has dropped this hint about the case that he wonders desperately about, as it might be his own work. There's that undercurrent of adrenaline, of course, of being so close to someone who is technically investigating you - fear is too strong of a word.

He doesn't wonder if Will is bringing up what he's assumed to be his case on purpose; that thought never crosses his mind, at this point. He wants so badly to pry, to hear about Will speaking with the priest, because he knows that he visited. He makes a note himself to see if he might get a visitation with the Father; perhaps he'll go in glamour. Perhaps disguise himself as Will...

He can't help himself.

"What kind of monster do you think did it? Whatever it is you're investigating."

[infomodder]

His hands grip the steering wheel tighter—not enough to make his knuckles go white or anything so dramatic, but enough to be noticed, should Matthew glance over. Matthew flinches at the name of Jesus Christ, Will goes into his own sort of flinch mode when it comes to discussion of his empathy. Cruel to be kind, kind to be cruel...

"I can make assumptions based on observations of you, but I'm liable to be completely wrong. I tend to reserve it for certain people only, anyway."

That's his answer, which also serves as a not answer. He assumes that the question is prompting him to expound on what vibes he could get from Matthew, and Will doesn't play into it so easily. He could, and he could be wrong, but his way of seeing things is often so...harsh. Letting it out with anyone, good or bad, might not go over well at all.

"And I'm not sure if monster is fitting, but...whoever it was did a good enough job that I can't imagine this was their first go around."

This is also not Will's first go around at being out of town, or being on a dirt road that most would probably pass without even noticing. Good reason for that, too, considering how bumpy it is. Will's completely used to it, doesn't find it bothersome to roll and bounce and hiccup...he told Matthew to buckle in for reasons for beyond legality, because holy shit is this road is in serious need of some leveling.