maskormenacelogs | now look at what you just saw, this is what you live for

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now look at what you just saw, this is what you live for

WHO: Dorian Gray & Will Graham
WHERE: some shitty warehouse in Heropa. possibly Heropa's only shitty warehouse, this ain't no Maurtia Falls
WHEN: the evening of Feb 1st
WHAT: Dorian's months-long campaign to try and get into Will's good graces with the intent of fucking him up comes to a head........with Will revealing that he's already mad fucked up as is, whoops
WARNINGS: Talk about murder, body horror, gore & cannibalism, definite corpses, fun times for everybody.

For once in his life, Dorian got somewhere early.

He had a little bit of set-up to do, after all. Earlier in the day, he had placed a terrible little card table and chair in the warehouse. God, this would be so much easier if it was in Maurtia Falls. He had actual criminal connections there, Heropa was too safe. But, then again, it wasn't like Will could take his heart to Maurtia Falls via Porter and Dorian honestly didn't know if Will knew any teleporters. Dorian did. And he was so thankful for Elsa Brandt's existence right now because not only did she magic him to the warehouse, but she gave him a present! A present...in the form of a dead Russian. Hopefully Will knows what to do with corpses because Dorian doesn't know jack. That's what the Alan Campbells of the world were for, to blackmail and bribe into getting rid of corpses.

So, he's getting everything set up. Shitty plastic cutlery on table, big honking butcher knife on table, dead Russian soldier propped up in the crappy fold-up chair. Dorian himself is dressed in an odd mix of his normal tailored attire (crisp black slacks), some rumpled tailored attire (wrinkled white oxford shirt, black shoes that still had a bit of blood splatter on them), and downright tacky attire (a trucker hat previously seen on security footage.) Everything's set up with a few minutes to spare, a bizarre tableau, as Dorian retreats back to one of the more shadowy corners of the warehouse and just waits, waiting for Will to arrive.

He can't help it. He's a bit of a drama king. And he wanted all of this to be executed perfectly.

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Will's there right on time. Around 8pm wasn't necessarily specific, so he just went with the idea of showing up at exactly eight being considered on time. His car's parked roughly two blocks away. Meaning he's walked to this warehouse with the goodies mentioned before. One cooler contains the still on-ice heart. The other has an actual meal because the last thing he was going to do was cook human flesh in his own kitchen. But to tease with food and show up empty-handed in that regard was just rude, so actual pork it is.

He lingers at the entrance for a few moments, like he's uncertain where to go from here, or if he wants to go further down whatever hellish rabbit hole this is (he's ignoring Chilton's words about it, this has been a long time coming). Played off as simply adjusting what he's carrying, of course. There's no plaid to be seen. He isn't in a suit and tie, but his slacks are dark and pressed, the thin coat that ends about his knees just as dark. Far more bringer of death than fisherman this time around.

Moving in, Will spots the table. And what looks (and smells) like a corpse. Surely another present of sorts? The mere idea of getting to meet this guardian angel only to find out someone put them down just before Will could properly speak to them is absolutely horrifying (and unfair). He walks around to get a proper look at this dead man, carefully putting the cooler with the heart in it on the card table as he tilts his head, as he quite obviously studies the corpse.

"And who are you?"

He asks like the corpse has the ability to answer him, and tilts his head more like he's actually hearing said answer.

Dorian can't help but frown, watching as Will just looks at the corpse. What a disappointing reaction. He's studying him. He's just studying that corpse. Granted, Will is FBI, this certainly isn't his first corpse rodeo but it's a disappointing reaction nonetheless. He can't help but wonder about the coolers Will had brought in: two. There was only one heart, is he returning the finger and toe as well? But with that, you could easily shove it in the same cooler. (A very morbid thought flashes through Dorian's mind that if the weirdest option is true and Will actually is a cannibal, it might be a different form of 'lunch.' Needless to say, he's not going to eat anything the man offers.)

And then Will addressed the corpse. And Dorian, prima donna that he is, senses it's the right time.

"He's your dinner," Dorian calls out from the shadows before walking over to Will, a small little smirk playing right on his face. "Granted, he's a bit stale, but it's the least I can do under such short notice." It's all due to the stars aligning and massive luck, but Dorian's not going to tell Will that. Let him think that he killed for him, that he murdered this man just for him and just for this little meeting between the two, instead of the actual truth of 'hey there buddy, you want a corpse.' As soon as he gets close enough to the dead Russian, Dorian whips off the trucker hat in one smooth gesture and idly places it on the corpse's head. Like hell he's going to wear that thing longer than he has to.

"Sincerely yours, a guardian angel." When he turns to look at Will, that smirk is downright nasty. "Surprised?"

The voice hits Will's ears, but he doesn't turn. Not just yet. That's entirely too familiar a voice for what he was expecting—a voice he had no knowledge of was what he was prepared for. The opposite? Not at all. He should have, of course he should have, but he held out hope this was some odd stranger's way of making their presence known. Perhaps someone in their community he'd spoken to once or twice, if that. Not a friend. Not someone he happily and willingly invited into the home he shared with his wife, his family, not someone he spent all night with in his attic, not someone he trusted.

He refuses to look at Dorian immediately because he needs a moment to throw away his refusal to believe this is all Dorian's doing. Dorian is quite helpful in said process the more he speaks, fortunately. By the time footsteps come close enough it feels like Will could spin around and clock him with the cooler, he's managed to get the shock and betrayal off his face.

Will stares at the hatted corpse, blinking slowly. He'll wake up and find out this is just a bizarre dream, right? Right?

No. It's too believable to be a dream, he realizes, past conversations hitting him all at once.

"Surprise is not the foremost emotion in me right now." Slow, each word carefully enunciated, cutting through the air as Will finally looks from the corpse to Dorian. Just a mere glance over his shoulder, enough to take in that smirk. Like Dorian doesn't deserve more than that for all the trouble he's gone to. Leave it to Will Graham to show a stunning lack of appreciation for these things when doing so may take away some of the other party's enjoyment. "Would you not prefer if I felt...privileged?"

There's no anger or hatred or disgust or harshness; his tone carries the same nonchalance from the other night.

He's not looking. That's telling Dorian enough, telling him that Will did not expect this in the slightest, that out of all the people in the imPort community, he didn't expect Dorian Gray to be the one who mailed him fingers. And that just makes Dorian so happy. He's smirking up a storm, just radiating sheer smugness and pure schadenfreude at Will's situation, in comparison to the other man's careful neutrality. Which...is annoying. He wasn't expecting histrionics, certainly not from Will Graham, but surely Will could scrape up a little more emotion! Think of him in this situation! Play your part, make this a damn good show!

Still, Dorian is obviously enjoying this. It's been so long since he's done something like this, since he's wormed his way into someone's life only to pull the wool from their eyes at the last minute. It's surprisingly fun.

And, because Dorian is Dorian, he responds to Will's question by more talking. "I don't know why you'd feel privileged. I chose you mostly because a mutual acquaintance of ours suggested I take up a new project—well, former mutual acquaintance. The two of us had a falling out." It had been Frederick Chilton who planted that seed all those months ago, practically close to a year now, that had just germinated in Dorian's subconscious for all that time. Find a project. It had been the less savory members of Dorian's coterie who helped keep the plan going, encouraging him in what he was doing. But it had been all Dorian, the immortal himself who grew close to Will with the plan of hopefully, one day ruining him.

"You're right though, surprise probably isn't the best emotional choice. What about...disgust? Disdain?" Dorian can't help but laugh a little bit, as he leans on the corpse, like he's leaning on a real life actual person. "Here's a good one! What about simply hurt?"

Poor Dorian. Hannibal is the truly theatrical one. Will's the mostly silent partner in the background who rarely makes a big scene by comparison.

Will puts the second cooler on the table, turning fully to Dorian at last, his body language more relaxed than it really has any right to be. There's a dead man. Dorian seems to think giving Will a corpse for dinner is worth laughing about. Seems to think the idea of hurting him as a project is worth laughter instead of serious reevaluation of whoever the hell is tossing out such suggestions in the first place (wait til he puts two and two together there). And all he gets in return is a small smile, neither warm nor friendly but indulging Dorian just the same. Like Dorian isn't leaning on a dead man or anything, like it's just the two of them, like this isn't a bizarre situation.

Like this isn't truly the worst or the newest sort of betrayal revealed Will has ever experienced.

"Less hurt and more a...moderate sort of hollowness I'm already intimately familiar with." This nut's been cracked before. If the scar along his forehead doesn't say that loudly enough, then by all means, he'll use his voice. His steady, calm voice that doesn't match up with the growing strain on his face. "I don't mean to be rude, Dorian, but I am not eating him. Hopefully you have a backup plan for disposing your evidence."

Disposing your evidence—ah yes, he has assumed Dorian killed a dude just for Will. That part's gone over without a hitch.

Once again this is just showing Dorian that he really picked a terrible choice to ruin. Will's fine, he's relaxed, he mentioned that he was already intimately familiar with betrayal, it would just be so much easier if there was a cliff notes to ruining lives or something that Dorian could read. Because he knew he could do so much better. It's a bit like color by numbers in this regard.

Yeah uh about that backup plan...Dorian does not have a backup plan in the slightest. His backup plan was assume Will had a backup plan. So there's a brief moment where sheer confusion flits over his face (because shit) before he regains his cool and continues talking, using a very nonchalant tone of voice. "You're FBI, I assumed you had a backup plan." Dorian's way of dealing with corpses is one of the following. A: leave it there. B: blackmail someone to dispose of the body via chemicals. He can count on one hand the number of times he gave a corpse he created an actual, proper burial, he is a bit out of his element and, annoyingly, it shows.

So, time to change the topic.

"Even more telling, when I ask about a gift, you default to long pig. This certainly isn't the first body you've dealt with and, based on your culinary tastes, I doubt it will be the last."

There's a spark of something in him when Dorian speaks again. So even if Will didn't eat stale, raw meat, Dorian was still counting on him as the backup plan. His (pet) project, his betrayed friend, he still assumed Will would just take care of it. He's not sure if he should be insulted by that, as if Dorian views him only as a vehicle to be driven at certain points, to be trusted to drive by himself at others, but it has his chin lifting, brow furrowed. Seriously considering Dorian with the first signs of disbelief showing. Dead guy at a table? Okay. Dorian being a shitheel? Okay. Dorian being an all-too-familiar level of shitheel? Here we go again.

"My cannibalism is not a secret. Not in the strictest sense of...a secret. It's also in the past." Did Dorian think the what the fuck is this ended at the mere suggestion of long pig? Because if so, well. Perhaps he'd realize how deep that what the fuck is this hole goes with Will Graham, Will Graham who confesses to it so easily, without any sign of remorse or that he's conflicted about this particular diet. This culinary taste (lack of taste, honestly). "But you're right. I can dispose of a body without eating it."

Will looks back at the corpse in the same way most people would look at, say, a cardboard box that needs disposing of. There was a life there. It's gone now. Shit happens, no point in getting worked up over someone he didn't even know. Not now, not when he isn't doing his job, not when...

"He is a gift, after all." A rare gift. Also a gift Will didn't want. Here we go again indeed. "Would be appallingly discourteous of me to...give it back. Why did you give me a gift?"

Where do we go from here? What are your plans?

At least Will is rather certain Dorian is not in love with him. There is that in his f(l)avor.

He's...confessing? That calmly? That easily? He just straight up said 'yeah I was a cannibal' without the slightest hint of remorse or the slightest hint of regret, he said that as easily as one would say 'yeah I got chicken pox in grade school' despite the fact that again, he's talking about cannibalism. Dorian's definitely thrown for a loop at that, giving Will an expression that's a good halfway mixture between what the everloving fuck and oh my god, you are suddenly so much more interesting.

Dorian's seeing Will Graham in a new light and he is loving it. He's still leaning up against the corpse but is looking at Will in a new light. He's got hunger, but this hunger's for knowledge, to find out how deep the rabbit hole goes because again, casual mentions of cannibalism, how come he didn't know about this before?

And why did you give me a gift...look, the actual answer is 'because Elsa had a corpse in her bathtub.' Will is not getting the actual answer. Will is going to get Dorian dodging the question like a champ. So instead, Dorian simply answers with, "Isn't that what friends do?" Now time to change the subject. "I'm sorry, I'm still hung up a bit on the cannibalism not being a secret when it's cannibalism. Why didn't you tell me?"

Dorian has absolutely no right to ask Will that. He also has absolutely no right to sound a bit hurt and look a bit put-out that he wasn't part of the cool cannibalism kids club, especially considering that he just recently told Will that their entire friendship was based on Dorian making Will into a pet project. And yet.....

It's an absurd question, isn't it? Even without the context of their relationship finally coming into full focus, when would he tell Dorian about his cannibal problems? Simply not a polite thing to bring up. Not with anyone. Something much better to be swallowed down, dealt with privately. And yet.....Will shows no signs he finds it such. He has asked more absurd questions before, has heard them thrown his way.

"I didn't have a good time to tell you, did I? It's, as you said, cannibalism. Not something to be brought up in polite company...or anywhere else."

But Dorian seems to be reacting to it without too much disgust of his own (go figure, considering the hideous tableau he's set up and the fact he let Will literally hold his heart), and Will has to wonder why, exactly. He has to wonder where Dorian wants to go with his project. His project he entrusted with the key to his portrait. Has he already changed the lock? Did he worry Will's next move would be to destroy it and plan for that ahead? Did he think that once the scales had fallen from Will's eyes, after their kitchen massacre, they could see each other better and...what?

Casually, he flips opens the cooler to reveal lomo saltado, just as he'd written. The meal isn't quite a beautiful presentation just yet, slightly cramped but not tossed in willy nilly. There was care in Will putting this together, that much is obvious.

"Speaking of friendship and gifts...I brought what I promised." A moment wherein Will actually smiles at the food (due to the whole situation being what it is, his smile is a cracked, less than stable aberration, seams finally coming undone) before he looks back to Dorian. "You trust me with your life. Do you trust me when I say this is pork?"

Dorian's still put out. Because, of course, even in this reveal, even when confronted with Will's problems and what sort of horrible things had to happen back in Baltimore to even make Will a temporary cannibal, Dorian's focused on himself. Weren't they close? Didn't Dorian do a good job with worming his way into Will's life? What gives, man! "Since when was I polite company?" Dorian remarked, with a small little scoff, rolling his eyes. Because that's true. Since when was he polite company? He was Dorian Gray, someone who's most famous for sin and debauchery over anything else. Dorian robbed a bank, murdered a girl, linked Will to terrible porn, dated a vampire, what about that said polite company?

But ah. The food. Dorian moves away from the corpse, to look at the food. Truth be told...he doesn't know if he trusts Will or not. Because again, the cannibalism thing. Dorian thought he had Will pegged and yet somehow, the man had so many more layers than he had expected. He honestly didn't know if the food was people or actual pork. He knew what he was going to have to do, though.

What the hell. He wanted Will to tell him more about what happened back home, about Baltimore, about the fact that apparently cannibalism was just something that happened? This was going to suck but, Dorian couldn't help but muse that even if he was going to be an unintentional cannibal, at least it was something new. So, for Will's answer, Dorian simply reached over to the lomo saltado and stabs a strip of meat with one of the plastic forks (ohhhh please be pork). Rather rudely, he shoves the whole thing into his mouth and starts to chew, watching Will for a reaction all the while.

At least it tastes like pork. But then again, he's got no idea what people taste like to begin with.

It's true, Dorian is firmly in the anywhere else category. But Will doesn't take any time to clarify that, more curious to see if his trucker hat-wearing guardian angel is going to believe him. Or perhaps say fuck it and go for the food anyway, just to see what sort of reaction he gets out of Will. Which is probably what he's expecting regardless of motivation, a slightly smug smile. The sort that comes along with the territory of making anyone food and the joy of watching them actually consume it.

Then, without any warning, Will puts one hand on the corpse's shoulder...and promptly shoves it to the ground, making room for him to slide into the seat instead. It's altogether quick and seemingly normal, like pushing aside a sweater or purse instead of an actual human being. A calm, controlled sort of gesture hiding the fact that Will finally feels the need to just sit. To not be on his feet any more. Perhaps best to cover up any sense of illness, of displeasure (or hurt) from betrayal by coming across as more fine with this set up than he is. Like this isn't anything too horrific, won't be keeping him up at night (hah).

With the same casual air, Will grabs up one of the plastic forks as well and reaches in to stab a strip of meat. Glancing up at Dorian, he cracks a grin that is less grin and more simply cracked.

"Well? Gonna pull up a chair?"

That smile that isn't a smile only further invigorates Dorian. No matter what, he did something. He can tell from Will's expression that no matter what, even if he didn't fully drive Will past the point of no return, he did something. He broke the man somehow or poked and prodded him in certain ways that eventually he'll get some results. Maybe not now. But Dorian's certain that no matter what, he's going to see some results at some point or another. That's why he mirrors Will's cracked smile with a small little smirk of his own.

Hope springs eternal.

So, Dorian sits down at the table as well, stabbing another piece of meat. Thankfully, he's civilized enough to chew and swallow before asking Will a question. "You do realize I'm just deathly curious about the whole cannibalism thing. I could have kept this going for much longer but you've managed to pique my interest." That and Toby's gotten out of jail, meaning that Dorian, in all his self-centered glory, is going to shift all of his priorities back to Toby. He truly has a one track mind.

It's likely not in the Hannibal Lecter guide to civilized meals with others for those meals to be shared right off the same plate, but too bad. Will is honestly not quite feeling up to snuff in the way he's fit to portion everything out and make it look pretty. The less he can do, the more liable he is to look, well, less of a mess. So he waits for Dorian to get his second piece before going in seconds himself, seemingly treating this like he would any other meal between the two of them. They could be up in the attic having a late dinner/early breakfast for how oddly companionable the whole mood is.

"Deathly curious," Will repeats, tone dry even as he lifts his eyes just so, even as he gives Dorian a look. Deathly anything regarding cannibalism, hah. If only that logical assumption was always true with the cannibalism back home. "Not really sure where to begin...the whole cannibalism thing, as you call it, has been just about the last five years of my life."

He finally stuffs that strip of meat in his mouth with the same rudeness Dorian had used before. Hey. Hannibal wasn't around. He didn't need to be all up the ass of the etiquette train.

The Hannibal Lecter guide to civilized meals with others probably forbids eating dinner in a warehouse anyway...or next to a corpse...or with someone as delightfully rude as Dorian. He probably cuts all his meat on wooden cutting boards or something like that. Dorian also is treating this like any other mean, like they're gossiping about other imPorts in the attic, not talking about fricken cannibalism.

And yes, deathly curious. Dorian can't help but give Will an innocent little smile, like 'oh, did I just make that terrible pun?' Surely it must have been someone else and not Dorian Gray, mentioning how deathly curious he was while a corpse hung out on the ground next to them. Besides, if he gets Will talking then maybe he won't notice that Dorian is decidedly letting Will eat most of the lion's share of the food. Two pieces of maybe people was enough, right?

He gestures to Will with his fork as he continues talking. "To quote an overly twee musical, start at the very beginning, as it's a very good place to start." When you read you begin with a, b, c. When you talk about cannibalism you start with 'well this one time in Baltimore.'

Up go the eyebrows. Five years he says, and yet Dorian's still down for starting at the, well, start. That's where his muted disbelief stems from above anything else. Not that Dorian's seeing fit to ask despite all that he's done, despite the lengthy set up for this evening in the first place. One more slice of that (short) pork gets thoroughly chewed and swallowed before he sets the fork down, takes a deep breath, leans his elbows on the table like a true uncultured heathen, interlaces his fingers, goes for eye contact, and visibly settles on where, exactly, the start is. Where the start he'll let be heard is, of course.

Because like hell he's going to talk at length about Abigail Hobbs. Not with her recent disappearance, not with those years spent back home always knowing where she was because she was in the ground.

"In order to work in the field back home, I had to see a psychiatrist. Help keep me stable when the work so often did everything possible to keep us all unstable. The doctor I was set up with, he was...a very cultured man. Very knowledgeable. Not just in his field but all things. Music, art, history, languages...he'd been an emergency room surgeon before, even. A gourmet chef as well, threw lavish parties, from what I was told. I never attended. The meals Doctor Lecter and I had were always more...intimate."

He glances at the small table, at Dorian, and looks around the open-yet-private space for a moment as if to say, sort of like this.

"When your psychiatrist is a chef and he brings a breakfast scramble to your hotel room, chicken soup to your hospital room...don't really stop to think it could be anything except for what he says it is. Certainly don't assume all the bluster about poultry or pork or lamb is to cover the fact that. It's long pig. Pulled straight from bodies you've been working off and on for years."

And yet through all that, Will doesn't sound angry in this serial killer's direction. He doesn't even sound tired. There's an odd sort of fondness for Cannibal Man, like he's speaking of an old buddy instead of an old buddy who turned out to be an absolute ass.

Dorian likes talking. He'll talk up a storm if needed. He will gladly sit in the attic and tell stories to his portrait like a crazy person. So naturally, he assumes that Will is also perfectly fine with telling half-hour long stories about himself that may contain gruesome details that Will wouldn't want to tell to other people. It's talking about yourself, after all! So Dorian leans in as well, making eye contact as he just listens.

It only made sense that Will had to see a psychiatrist. After all, he was FBI, wasn't he? You'd need some sort of clearance just to carry a gun and go after psychopaths. But this psychiatrist...very knowledgeable, cultured in music, art, languages, threw lavish parties. Huh, why does that all sound kind of familiar to Dorian (oh wait because minus the gourmet chef and psychiatrist part, it's totally him.)

But human flesh, made up to taste like pork or lamb, pulled off the bodies they've been working on? It's a pretty smart decision, he has to admit. No one's going to miss these people. He'd imagine that they would have to have some time alone, some time where they'd flit away from humanity, if only to kill whoever they were killing. Rather like Lunatic in that regard, which Dorian has to admit, might be a reason why Will tolerated the man moreso than others. After all, he did keep a hold of his dishes...at least for a little bit. God help us all, Dorian's not entirely empathizing with Hannibal Lecter, but he's certainly admiring the man's pluck. A serial killer helping to stop serial killers.

"Back home, I encountered a supernatural mist, something that seeped into the lungs of those who caused others to suffer, killing them outright." Something that Dorian managed to escape because of his lack of a soul—what would happen if he encountered something like that now, soulful as he was? The thought scared him. "It seems like your psychiatrist thought himself to be my mist, right?"

Will takes a moment to digest the meaning there, the idea of Hannibal working to snuff out those who made others suffer. While there was some merit for some cases, well...

"Nothing so noble," he said, opening his hands slightly in lieu of a shrug. "Hannibal always preferred to eat the rude, not...those who made others suffer. The rude. And rude could be defined as..." He glanced around again, looking at the body on the ground, the cooler with its heart, then back to Dorian. "...what you've done to me, same as it could be someone who just didn't treat him with. The enthusiasm he felt necessary."

So a code that was tenuous at best. Certainly nothing to compare to Lunatic. Not in the man's presence, at any rate. No need to insult him like that. No need to be rude and risk becoming charbroiled meat.

"You'd be better off likening him to a man playing at God. Or the devil. There is room for overlap there, for some people."

For Dorian, too, perhaps. One way to find out.

Dorian can't help but scrunch up his nose. Rude?! He's rude? Excuse you, he...is totally rude, isn't he. Well. The idea of eating the rude is something that he's taking personal offense because he knows he's rude as fuck.

"If we listed the ways I'm rude, we'd be here all day," stated very matter-of-factly. Again, he's rude as hell and he knows it.

He leans back in his chair, listening to Will as he continues talking. Hannibal? Dorian's getting deja vu at the name but honestly, he can't place where he's heard it before (aside from elephants and the Alps). A man playing God, though...he can't help but frown a little bit.

"And so what, eventually he removed the blinders from your eyes? Surprise, enjoy the fact that I've been secretly feeding you human for the past months?"

Well, at least Dorian confesses to his rudeness. May make potential later dreams of consuming him feel less out of place.

"Essentially, yes. By framing me for a series of his own murders. Spent some time in a hospital for the criminally insane until he planted evidence to exonerate me."

For the fact that this was all clearly very personal, Will maintains an even tone, like he's just speaking of historical fact. Nothing that too deeply impacted his own life. He's more keen on judging Dorian's reactions than anything else right now, and it's the past. The shit has happened. It can't be changed. No point in dwelling or letting it eat him alive.

"Realization didn't hit all at once. But it was there. I just needed to...look. Think over past talks and actions. See behind the veil." And then his voice drops, not accusatory but no longer anything approaching nonchalant. "Not unlike with you. All I'm saying is that I've regrown limbs before. Those were your body parts in the mail before, weren't they."

Edited 2016-02-05 05:46 (UTC)

He's listening. Dorian's main reaction is just listening, paying attention to Will and his words, obviously interested and obviously curious about Hannibal. The more he learns about Baltimore, the more it just excites him. What the hell was wrong with Will's world? It's a giant mess of crazy, serial killers and ridiculousness. Spending time in a lunatic asylum, was that where he met Chilton? Perhaps he met Gideon there also, who knows! Six degrees of crazyass separation.

And oh, the penny drops. Dorian's got a shit-eating grin on his face as Will puts the pieces together, as he realizes everything, as he figures out just whose limbs they are. Surely Dorian won't go to such lengths as to cut off his own fingers in order to further drive Will up the wall? Nope, ignore that, he totally will.

"Got it in one!" Dorian's smirking like an idiot as he continues, leaning in slightly to talk. "Really, I wasn't even planning on that, until I lost some body parts in...ah, in an accident. Back home, my organs keep regrowing after they're removed. Here? Apparently the Porter decided that might be a teensy bit too dangerous.

Apparently he will! While Dorian sports that shit-eating grin, Will's eyebrows raise, his lips thin out, and he leans back in the chair in response. It's not a ready to get up and run the hell out sort of lean, just settled. Comfortable. A front of being comfortable, because this is slowly becoming more and more uncomfortable. But it's in the past and dealing with the matter is a puzzle for now, for the future. Running won't do anyone a damn bit of good.

"The Porter has odd ideas of what is and what is not dangerous." Some of the people who get brought in are confusing, sure, but to give them powers? To make them similar to the powers they know? But why. Will gives Dorian that much before he slides his hands back into his lap, shrugging one shoulder out. "Where do you intend for this to go, Dorian? Surely not just to this evening. You had plans past that. Don't you?"

Tell me your design.

Dorian isn't a supervillain. But right here, right now, when it's him and Will in the warehouse, by themselves? He is going to slide a little into full tilt gloating and talking about himself. He continues to smirk as he leans in closer to Will, talking all the while. Why indeed. Of course he had plans past this, despite the fact that his plans were...mostly amorphous. After all, when Toby returned, he couldn't go back to lopping off limbs.

"Really, you made me change my plans as soon as cannibalism entered the picture." That much is true. As soon as Will mentioned long pig, Dorian's response was wait what, time to change plans. "The long game was simply to try and keep wearing you down, working my way closer until you revealed something I could really dig my fingers into."

Dorian's directness is both odd and refreshing. Rarely did Will have people messing with him (or the world around him) outright discuss it, not like this. His lack of familiarity with such is what has that momentary look of confusion on his face, but damn if it wasn't nice to have something solid to work with instead of multiple metaphors that needed tearing apart. This? This was a rare gift. This was not something to be thrown back or out, regardless of whatever future Dorian might be concocting in his head.

Still, there's a moment where all Will does is borderline grunt. A hum, a grunt, an aborted word that didn't even make it two letters in. Dorian's caught him off guard in more ways than one here, and he can't be bothered to hide that.

"...for...so you could do what? With those fingers."

Eloquent in the face of vague, creepy, poetic language? Sure. Dealing with something more blunt? Well. Give him some time, he's been doing well coping with this whole evening so far.

He knows Will, Will wouldn't appreciate intense metaphors and cryptic allusions. Will's not the sort of guy who would get it if Dorian idly quoted Byron during this confession. CCR, maybe, but then again, it's not like Dorian knows many CCR songs to begin with. Their reference points are few and far between and, aside from that, Dorian loves talking. If he keeps it simple, Will would ask him more questions, he can keep talking.

The fact that he's caught Will off guard amuses Dorian more than he can admit. This Hannibal person must not be one for bluntness. As such, time to be just so blatantly blunt.

"Mostly? So I can fuck you over. It's been ages since I ruined someone's life, I was getting a little bit nostalgic."

There is a big honking butcher knife on the table, and for a split second, Will has the very very vivid image of slashing it across Dorian's throat. Wiping that terrible smile off his face as their meal gets a new, bloody marinade. And for that split second, the confusion brimming about Will has been replaced with a look to reflect such thoughts. Nothing but murder in his eyes.

But Dorian never hurt April or Abigail, or anyone else in Will's home. In his family. He never really pushed this outside of the two of them. And hadn't Yuri Petrov given Will a warning about him, anyway? Christ. It's not that Will blames himself, it's that he realizes the situation could be so much worse. A blip of murder isn't called for here, and he's not sure he really has it in him. Not for this. Not when worse offenses didn't warrant the same.

The probably most expected question of Why me? is one that doesn't even register with Will. Which may be all the answer he needs if that question ever pops up later, he'll realize.

He stares, he blinks a few times, and finally snaps out of his murderous reverie...but his thoughts are still less than kind, of course, because the first thing out of his mouth after he licks his lips is: "You want the key to your portrait back, then?"

Does Dorian have any fear that by revealing this, he's welcomed a return blow? That's what Will wants to know. He couldn't take this out on Toby. Truth be told, he has no idea of a proper return blow, because he's not sure this even calls for one. However rude Dorian has been, he's still been polite by keeping this between them.

Perhaps that's why Will, too, hmm? He's not about to go bugnuts crazy trying to get back at him. He's just going to roll with the punches as best he can until something spurs him to do more. And so far, Dorian hasn't twisted the knife enough for Will to pull it out and shove it through the hand that put it there in the first place.

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