[He doesn't reply, though as the time ticks by, he feels tempted to send her something, ask how it is, if there was a delay. He ends up telling himself that if she's not there by the regular time shop closes, he'll call, which just makes him more grateful to see her finally step through. Him on a stool leaning over the counter and flipping through a magazine full of rods and reels, not a stupid punny shirt to be seen in it. Gunther, unseen on the floor behind it, passed out like a log.

Or, he was, until he heard his name. Paws hit the floor, the dog's head appears right next to Will (who is looking at Gunther instead of Annie, not a repeat of before), tail going from still to wagging. Faster when Will says nothing, the dog furiously seeking the word of yes you can or no you can't and getting neither. The beard trembles, not wanting to be bad and barking but not getting an answer, and finally Will gives him all he can get at the moment: a pat on the counter.

Gunther can't cross the line and get in her face like last time, but he can scramble up to lean across the counter, legs stretched out just shy of smacking Will's magazine off, tongue licking the air in front of him. Will doesn't have to even crook a finger with the dog around.

Perfect. Lure.]

Not sure if he's with me or I'm with him at this point. Fridge in the back is full, if you're thirsty or anything.

[Gets friendly visit, tells them to get their own shit: Will Graham, in How to Make Yourself Comfortable Because Fuck if I Can Help Anyone There.]