maskormenacelogs | they said you was high-classed

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they said you was high-classed

WHO: Will Graham & YOU (and dogs)
WHERE: All over Heropa
WHEN: Month of March
WHAT: Dogs. Live bait. Fish. Whatever you want. Follow your dreams.
WARNINGS: General Hannibal stuff, will update if needed.

HOOK, LINE, & TINKER;

[It's a bait shop in Heropa, where Will can be found Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with Gunther behind the counter. The counter is comfortably messy; stacks of mail and magazines, though an odd addition sits underneath all that. A copy of Frederick Chilton's book about poor unfortunate crazy ass Walter White isn't difficult to spot. Nor is the fact Will seems to be treating it as a text book in his down time. The book has a slew of green sticky notes littered all over the place, a highlighter sitting next to it. If there's people in the store, he isn't paying it any attention, but when there aren't...

Sometimes there's little else to do, so Will throws a slobber-infested and therefore loved tennis ball for Gunther to go bounding after. Occasionally a veritable herd of little old ladies come in for Blue Beetle-themed merchandise, hats and shirts and keychains and the like. They bring cookies and other baked goods, likely offerings so they have reason to stay around longer and stare at Will's ass. Apparently they're not put off by stupid fishing caps, plaid shirts, and denim (yes, denim) vests. One routinely calls him by another name, claiming he looks so much like her departed husband. He never comes away from these visits without at least ONE clear print of lipstick on his cheek and never shies away from receiving such. It's just good business to let his customers kiss his "when are you going to shave, Will?" cheeks, it's just polite.]

DOG PARK;

[All the dogs go to the park. All of them. You know those pictures of Daniel Radcliffe walking a pack of dogs around? Add some age, some plaid, some denim, some scars, more hair, a growing distress beard, that's pretty much Will. He's even attached the leashes to his belt instead because there are too many damn dogs to just halfsies it the leashes in his hands. Of course when he gets there, all bets are off and they run about sniffing butts and making friends and rolling in mud like kids on a sugar high while Will sits on the bench and watches. And makes nice with other people. And their dogs. And looks out for any dogs that might need a better home...shush.

This also means he has to walk to and from said dog park with the pack in tow, so he can be spotted (easily, so fucking easily) and approached on the way there or back just the same. Pick your poison, yo.]

THE LUDGATE-GRAHAM HOME OF SARCASM AND SORROW;

[While Will can be found pretty much anywhere inside, as per usual, he's also spending more time outside tending the garden, the front yard. Which involves talking to stubborn bushes who need some little extra care. And standing, openly, before God and passerby with a raccoon on his shoulder, delivering a quiet lecture to the dogwood tree that's apparently just growing like a weed and needs to make up its mind about these growth spurts. It's all very serious business to the man with a raccoon on his shoulder. This dogwood tree better listen up and shape up.]

WILDCARD;

[Got something in mind???? Want a starter??? Do it tell me Shia LaBeouf this puppy up.]

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Sure do. That would be [He turns on a heel, looking up as he calculates the quickest, shortest way there.] this way.

[this way involves Will moving in said direction, slowly at first to make sure the kid follows. He is assuming the kid will follow, which means taking any dark alleyway shortcuts might not be ideal. If they're both on foot, at least, it wouldn't be ideal. Hrm.]

Name's Will, by the way. Used to live here. Caught me on my monthly visit back.

[ Matthew does follow him, relieved that he knows the way. ]

Thanks for helping me. I really appreciate it.

[ But he's also a bit subdued, because this is the second time he's gotten himself in this kind of situation. People have been taking care of him his whole life but even he realizes it's a lot to ask of someone he just met--and to do it twice. Especially someone who doesn't live here anymore and probably wants to get home. ]

I'm Matthew. Matthew Lynch.

[ Should he offer to give Will some money or something? No wait, he ran out of money; that's part of the original problem. ]

[Sometimes people like taking care of others, and Will is in that boat. It helps him ignore the fact that sometimes he's absolute garbage at taking care of himself. Everyone wins!

Lynch. Lynch? He'd mentioned a brother, and Will knows a boy with the name of Lynch. But it's not exactly the most unheard of name out there, and he's not even sure if this kid is...]

No problem. It's good to meet you, Matthew. [Matthews are good people.] Are you an imPort, too?

[Asked just like normal conversation instead of I'm gonna figure out if you're related to that other Lynch boy investigation in its baby stages.]

[ Matthew is a-ok with normal conversation--the alternative is walking in silence, which would be awful, no thanks--and he nods eagerly. ]

Yeah. You, too? [ That's particularly comforting, somehow. ]

I've been here-- [ it takes him a second ] --almost three weeks.

[ Two weeks and some days. They pass under another streetlamp and it might help Will's investigation if he were to get a better look at his temporary charge. Matthew doesn't seem a lot like Ronan at first glance. The differences between them--both in appearance and personality--are distracting, but upon inspection they do look rather like knockoffs of the same man. Two of "Niall Lynch's boys", or at least they used to be. Matthew just happens to have inherited some features of mother as well (or did he? It's complicated. For now just roll with this explanation as written; he doesn't know any better, either.) ]

Almost two years now.

[For how long that might be, two whole years, Will doesn't have an ounce of fatigue or bitterness about the fact. Rather, he seems happy about it. This place has given him far far more than it's taken away, which is something he's never sure he'll get used to. Until a day comes where he's the only one left, where his wedding ring has passed three months without April wearing its counterpart, he'll rethink the whole "being content with this as an afterlife." For now? No way, man, he's just jazzed to be here.]

So your brother's Ronan, right?

[damn skippy he got a better look with the help of street lighting]

[ Two years. That's the longest Matthew's heard of so far, but Will doesn't seem bothered by it at all. He doesn't know what to make of that. This place is not as terrible as he'd been led to believe on the first day, at least so far--he hasn't been kidnapped or made to fight anybody yet--but it's not quite home. He hasn't forgotten about his mother. He's not sure he wants to be here for a year, much less two.

The question about Ronan, on the other hand, well. Matthew reacts to that one immediately and earnestly, turning more to face Will as they walk. ]

Yeah, yeah he is, my older brother. You know him?

[ He's met people here who know Ronan, and he's met people here who know of Ronan, so the clarification is necessary. Hopefully Will has a good impression of him, that'd be nice. ]

I do.

[Intimately, it could be argued. Swapping powers with no warning had an invasive quality to it. Never again would Will question what birds were yakking about at the buttcrack of dawn, because now he knew. He knew what those little bastards were chirping about when all he wanted was for them to fly elsewhere so he didn't have to listen to that single-minded yammering or get his ass out of bed.

Will doesn't blame any of that on Ronan, though. He doesn't confess to knowing the kid with any level of disdain or aggravation, either. Perhaps that's most telling. Abigail had liked him and so far, Will hadn't seen a reason to not like Ronan, too. He could see why other people didn't, but he wasn't other people. His entire life had run its course and ended as it had due to that fact: he wasn't other people.]

Hazarding a guess here...you like animals, I take it? Animals that aren't. Normal.

[He stops, turning into Matthew as though ready to tell secrets. Yeah, he knows about Henrietta. But if Matthew is fond of the creature, then he might be able to make this whole getting back to work go faster. And better than faster: more memorably. His stag's probably tired of being used to transport drunk/dying people. Matthew would be a breath of fresh air for everyone involved.]

[ Matthew stops and turns as well, looking at Will with blue eyes that are innocent and searching both at once.

He takes a moment to think through the facts. Will knows Ronan. Ronan's dreams are a secret back home. Here, everyone has powers, and what Ronan can do isn't as likely to get him murdered... like their father had been. ]

Are you talking about Henrietta?

[ More facts: Henrietta is kind of the only non-normal animal that he knows here (unless Chainsaw counts, too). She's been following him all over town, so it's not like her existence is any kind of secret. Not to mention Dorian told him on day one--and Ronan confirmed, without giving too many details--that she caused something of a fuss when Ronan first brought her out, so it's not unreasonable to think Will might know of her already. There's no harm in talking about her.

Also, final facts: Matthew does like animals, normal ones and otherwise. So he's curious. He's quite curious. ]

[Ah! He knows the name, that's a good sign. Referring to the creature by name instead of, say, oh, that screwball bird thing? is a good sign. Hopefully this isn't just a pretense thing, because Matthew's answer gets a small, pleased smile and nod. Nothing else. Until Will steps back enough that the street lights give him as much shadow as he'll get.

At first, his shadow tilts at a Very Wrong direction for where it's attached, where the light source is coming from. Then the head of it grows antlers. There isn't much time before those antlers starts to lift, and if Matthew watches, he'll get to watch what might as well be a birth. Antlers, ears, knobbly knees resulting in hooves, front hooves essentially pulling the rest of the feathered, furry body right out of the ground. Tail wags, as though shaking off the dust of being a shadow and not a giant stag creature, and Matthew will find himself being stared at by pitch black eyes. Long enough for them to blink and look at Will instead, the stag's head tilting like really? Cool.]

They're not the same. But they aren't too different.

[In the way they're fucking weird and a lot of people would find them nightmarish and in need of putting down, sure.]

[ Oh, shit, that's cool. No lie, before the Kavinsky... incident, Matthew would probably have been terrified by something like this. Or at the least, highly alarmed. But that night, magic and monsters were made very real things for him. They became a part of Ronan. Magic brought Matthew's mother back, waking her up like a flower in springtime. She is magic.

So he's much less fearful now, and more fascinated by the chance to see someone else's power in action, though he does take a step back when the stag pulls itself up out of the ground like the world's most freakishly incredible special effect. Then it looks at Matthew and his breath escapes his lungs all at once. ]

Is he-- friendly?

[ Translation: can I touch him? In fact Matthew's hand is tentatively half-raised already, but still close enough to his body that he can jerk it back if necessary. ]

Mine is.

[His shadow, at least, he trusts implicitly. Meaning he trusts it to act as he would in any given situation. That's not always a good thing, of course, but right now? It's fine. There's no danger of someone needing to be impaled, as far as Will's concerned, so this is just fine.

Almost like the stag's aware of the conversation, aware shadow featherbutt needs to be friendly here, the creature leans against that hand. Butts it, really, like he's expecting more than a scratch, a pet. He's not some domestic mutt, after all, but a shadowy figure of looming, antlered terror! He should be treated with such respect, which means more than some bullshit scratch behind the ears.]

I use it to get places when time and transportation is an issue.

[Just gonna let that hang and see what Matthew makes of it, yep.]

[ Matthew is staring at the stag in total awe, does that count as respect? Until it butts against his hand, that is, which is when a smile bursts across his face. BAM. It's like sunshine, the way he smiles, all perfect teeth and dimples and delight.

Thoughts of Kavinsky are utterly driven from his mind at this point.

He doesn't really give the stag a pet, or a scratch, but slowly strokes its face once from nose to forehead, looking into its eyes in a way that suggests he's both bewildered and pleased that it exists. Good stag. You are incredible.

It takes a minute for Will's words to sink in. Well, not an actual sixty-second minute, but close, because Matthew's so preoccupied with the shadow creature. He tears his eyes away and looks back to the man in plaid. ]

Hang on, you mean you can ride him?

[ His tone suggests he finds that seriously awesome. ]

Oh, yeah. Like a horse, I guess. Don't really have much experience on horseback to compare them.

[But he walks around similar to how one might with a horse, putting one of his hands out on the withers. Feathers ruffle under his fingers but the shadow beast doesn't spare Will a bit of attention. No looking at him, no moving, no flicking his ears, nothing. Will might as well not even be here, the stag is so focused on Matthew. And Matthew passes whatever Test a shadow stag could concoct, because that dark beastie seems to be smiling back.]

You wanna? Could take us quite a while to get to your work on foot. We'd get there in less than half the time with this.

I've ridden a horse.

[ Recently, too. But it doesn't matter. In fact, Matthew isn't even paying much attention to what he's saying, because the stag is smiling at him and he's quite distracted again.

Not entirely distracted though, because the answer to Will's question comes quick, without any hesitation. ]

Definitely. [ The second of thought comes afterward. ] I mean if it's okay. Is it okay?

[ He's still not really looking at Will when he asks this. He is more asking the stag. Henrietta is a thinking, feeling creature. She speaks Latin (well, she writes in Latin sometimes.) One could call her an animal but she's really more than that. Matthew doesn't want to offend this shadow stag if he's the same way, and climbing onto someone without permission might be a little offensive. ]

[Most people don't take so well to the stag, in all honesty. And, in all honesty, that's one reason he figured Matthew might be different. He's already had an introduction to some strange beasts. It's interesting to see how he responds to them, and even now that this conversation seems to be more Stag and Matthew than anything to do with Will, it's interesting.

Will simply removes his hand, still being ignored by his shadow (and getting a less than impressed glance for it, but nothing else), and watches as the thing essentially flops to its front...knees. Whatever it's called when they only get down on the front end, he isn't sure. It's just enough to make the whole process easier for short tiny human people.]

Looks like that's an okay to me. [As if Will had to interpret, pfft.] You mind sharing? You two could go on your own, but. In case something happens. Wouldn't want you lost again.

[ This time Matthew actually laughs, not at all minding that he has to jump back a bit in order to avoid being accidentally gouged by a pointy antler when the stag kneels for him. He's very much the opposite of Ronan, who is loath to show his interest in... Well, in most things. He touches the stag's forehead again and then circles around it, until he's on at its side and could actually climb on. Then he looks at Will again. ]

I don't mind. He's your shadow. [ That's right, isn't it? Either way, he's not going to ask Will to just stand around here while Matthew rides off into the night on his shadowstag.

Speaking of which. ]

I've never ridden a horse without a saddle before.

[ Or one that has feathers. So he's not entirely sure of the best way to do this. ]

[Will wonders if this kid is naturally trusting or if it has to do with his admittance to knowing Ronan, and to owning up to that without any underlying disdain. Or if it's all the shadow creature. Or a mix of the two. It's enough for him to mull over later, not now, because he's been given the go ahead and doesn't need to be told twice. Naturally moving to sit at the back, Will swings a leg over the stag in a movement that's so easy and relaxed it's quite apparent Will's had a lot of practice with doing so.

And doing so with people between him and dark feathered fur. He doesn't clamber or fumble, doesn't have any hesitation about it all. The back is simply where he belongs. He can see best from there. More importantly, it puts him as a buffer between the other rider and anything else, save perhaps a wayward bug or two. But that's inevitable. Nothing more than what might be expected by a riding teacher, or someone who takes rides with others as part of therapy. He's very much a natural with this, right down to leaving Matthew with just enough room to himself without it being an awkward amount.

The stag takes the all clear when it feels both in position, hefting back to a stand with the same ease. Shadow can carry a lot of weight before it starts to buckle.]

It doesn't feel like a horse, so. [Carefully, Will reaches out to give Matthew a proper view of his fingers clutching and tugging at a clump of dark feathers. The stag ain't even bothered. Built in reins, the best!] You're not gonna fall, but if you feel like you need something to hold onto, this is it. You can't really pull too hard. Shadow doesn't come apart very easily. And I'm right behind you, too. As buckled in as this guy gets.

[ It's hard to be as protected and adored as Matthew has been and not instinctively trust people. Love and acceptance have been folded around him his entire life, like a warm, golden blanket, allowing his affection and earnestness and joy to remain almost entirely untouched by the ugliness of the world.

He's only been drugged and kidnapped the one time--clearly an outlier.

He watches Will first, and when it's his turn to climb on manages to do so without too much trouble. Another smile tugs at his lips as he brushes his hands through the shadow feathers, and another laugh spills out when the stag gets to its feet again, causing the ground to drop away. He is clearly more thrilled to be here than he is afraid of falling off, but he still pays attention to Will's instructions, and collects a couple handfuls of feathers to demonstrate said attention. ]

Okay, got it. Like this? [ And then-- ] You're right, it's not really like a horse.

[ That said he immediately relinquishes one hand's worth of built-in reins--that would be the trust again--in favor of giving the stag a very approving pat on the side of its neck. ]

Just like that, when you feel need it.

[Which may be sooner rather than later, because the stag feels both riders in place and gets an approving pat. What else does that mean but get a move on? That's what it does, going from zero to a full out run without any build up. Will is more than familiar with this and keeps his arms on either side of Matthew out of habit, not really holding onto dark feathers but using them as a place to balance. He just hopes the kid stays a trusting little guy who's interesting in all this instead of freaking out, because. Well.

The stag tends to turn sharply and leap over stuff like benches. Its goal is to get to a place as fast as possible, it has no need to do so in prancing, classy manners. It only needs to be somewhere, so A to B is the focal point. Not comfort, not looks.]

Wo-oah!

[ That's not a "slow down" woah. Luckily for Will, Matthew does indeed continue to be that trusting, interested guy (not so much little though; he's young but also a big, healthy kid who is in no danger whatsoever of being thrown off into the sky.)

It's like a crazy magical night time rollercoaster ride, with unexpected twists and jumps that threaten to leave his stomach behind in the most enjoyable kind of way. He leans forward and ends up hanging onto the feathers with both hands again, trying--and failing more often than not--to guess which way the stag will take them. Every so often one of the leaps earns a wordless exclamation of delight.

This is probably the most fun Matthew's ever had being lost, for as long as it lasts. ]

Oh! I know where this-- [ There's one of those wayward bugs, gross. He spits it out and tries again. ] I recognize where we are now!

[ Of course he's going to let the stag drop him at the door, if that's all good with Will. He doesn't want to end this wild ride, bugs or no bugs, he's just excited about knowing where he is again. ]

[As soon as it's very very obvious Matthew is enjoying this, the whole idea of getting from Point A to Point B slips a little. The stag takes a few detours and Will says nothing. He's flexible with his usual routines, too, after all. And what's the harm in it, for the stag to sprint up hills only to quite nearly fly down them in powerful leaps and bounds? To give the lost boy a bit of extra delight on his journey to work? Will remains silent, though he can't hide the fact that Matthew's joy is infectious. He smiles, even as the stag sails over a bench and lands with a little more oomph than usual that seems to be absorbed completely by Will's legs and groin. He'll get over it.

But he recognizes where they are, too, and he knows how is stag is. So while Will's been mostly hands off, only using his arms as barriers for Matthew when they're truly necessary, he's quick to wrap one arm around Matthew's waist and hold him because, well. That stag knows where the end goal is and rather than slow down or anything that could be seen as common courtesy, it gallops straight to the door and then just stops in a screech of cluttered hooves putting on the brakes. The last thing Will needs is Matthew to jolt forward so he can later explain to anyone who asks that he got a broken nose because some plaid-covered jerk named Will couldn't control his powers. Bugs in the teeth is expected; broken faces, not so much.

He's still smiling in spite of at all, the stag getting down to its front knees once a stop has been achieved in ways that would cause most cars some shrieking distress. Only when that stability has been established does Will release his seatbelt-like grip for Matthew to slide off.]

You have fun?

[ Even with Will's arm around him, Matthew jerks forward at the crazy, death-defying stop, hard enough that it has to hurt, but he doesn't mind and he doesn't get shredded through the stag's antlers, so all is well. It's the end of the rollercoaster, just as much a part of the excitement as everything else, and he laughs again as the stag drops forward and Will lets go, allowing him to clamber down.

He staggers slightly when his feet hit solid ground again, his legs jelly, curls a wild mess. He might be a little sore tomorrow but it's hardly going to give him any regrets. ]

That-- was definitely fun.

[ He's grinning broadly, dimples on full display as he tries to catch his breath, and he appreciatively pats/leans against the stag's shoulder for a moment after dismounting, looking up at Will. ]

Thanks a lot.

[ For helping, and for the adventure. And introducing him to the coolest shadow ever. ]

[He's as helpful as he needs to be when it comes to Matthew dismounting. Will stays just where he is, and the stag takes an extra few seconds to make sure the kid is just showing appreciation, not about to get back on before it hefts itself back up. Will has lost any concern over riding this particular shadow in public at this point, might as well go ahead and speed on over to the Porter while it's already out there.]

You're welcome. [For the fact he's on top of a giant shadow deerthing, there's no looming, no intimidation. Just smiling, thoroughly pleased at this turn of events.] You gonna be okay on your own from here?

[ Matthew glances through the glass door; somehow he can just picture his boss somewhere in the building, clutching his heart over a second nightmare-looking monster creature hanging around outside. He swings his attention back to Will. ]

Yeah. I'll be fine from here. [ He smiles gratefully. ] Thanks again.

[ After one last touch to the stag's forehead, like he's a little reluctant to say goodbye, Matthew pulls open the front door, and gives Will a cheerful wave before disappearing inside. A lost boy safely returned! ]

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they said you was high-classed

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