[One day, perhaps, he can make it apparent that there's nothing she could do to truly alienate him, not while she still draws breath, has a beating heart. That there's little she can do to make Will happy, that it's not her job to make Will happy. She must already know sometimes people find happiness in all the wrong things (luring, ripping)—and yet, with those unhappily happy few, striving to please ends up working in the favor of not facing the chopping block.
Happiness isn't something granted those who come from their world, is it.]
Maybe. [He's not going to protest that.] I'll talk to him about it, see what he has to say.
[He didn't want Abigail facing a dead body. Like hell he wants her facing Hannibal Lecter more than she has to.]
no subject
Happiness isn't something granted those who come from their world, is it.]
Maybe. [He's not going to protest that.] I'll talk to him about it, see what he has to say.
[He didn't want Abigail facing a dead body. Like hell he wants her facing Hannibal Lecter more than she has to.]