ᴀᴘʀɪʟ's ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ (
infomodder) wrote in
maskormenacelogs2016-03-11 04:52 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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.]
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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?
no subject
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! ]