[Will can, in fact, confirm his whereabouts. He nods to give that much away, eyes taking in the dog now coming up to plop down on his usual spot behind the counter with a look cast Yuri's way before he puts his head on his paws. He's here, he can feel the tension, he can sit out and stay out and be a good boy, but he's here in case he's needed.
The dog is a sweet pile of docile at the moment, the exact opposite of Will. Will with one foot up on that stool—all the better to brace with, perhaps—and even his good shoulder seeming bad, the words causing him to both stiffen and relax. His shoulders are tense but he's still hunched, that foot against the stool is planted but his leg appears at ease. Fight or flight, but there are so many ways to fly and fight.
One of those methods to fighting is, of course, dirty. And what Yuri asks? That's dirty fighting. That's what gets him full eye contact as Will finishes off the cup of coffee, though. Draining it and setting its empty husk on the counter between them.
He's not physically afraid of Yuri. If he seems to be taking that at all seriously, the talk of drugged drinks being a possible in the here and now, it doesn't show. He doesn't need to insult either of them pretending he believes that Yuri is saying something else with this charmingly protective tale of a Russian judge and his Russian pothead teenage pal. If there actually is a drug in this coffee, then Will runs the risk of passing out or being sick in a set amount of time and going down a little too confident, but that's one risk he's okay taking.]
Black and hot, just like I've always liked it. [Though of a higher quality than his usual fare. Even when he got out on his own and started holding a good enough income, he still strayed to the coffees that could eat rust and strip paint off walls. He leans back, crossing his arms and propping his other foot up on one of the counter's shelves.] You're doing quite a lot of assuming. Assuming in brilliant extremes, too. Very. Dramatic. [There is a reason that Will's eyes fall to Yuri's tie. Theater, is that it? Freddie and Will are not theatrical in the same way. Their theater is on a Goddamn budget. Drugged, shit, like Will would be handing out his prescription pills and Freddie, without the additional benefits of being Registered, could afford it. Please. They are the poor folk who escaped the regular 9-5s in different, clashing ways.] I was holed up at a friend's house that night getting updates on the situation and keeping an eye on my communicator.
[He can take that stir stick and shove it where the sun don't shine. Yuri's crossing territory here, and Will won't have it. He will give him the house number, sure. It's the house with a talking dog, it makes sense Will would have found a friend there. But getting April's name specifically?
He's got a better chance of passing a camel through the eye of a needle.]
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The dog is a sweet pile of docile at the moment, the exact opposite of Will. Will with one foot up on that stool—all the better to brace with, perhaps—and even his good shoulder seeming bad, the words causing him to both stiffen and relax. His shoulders are tense but he's still hunched, that foot against the stool is planted but his leg appears at ease. Fight or flight, but there are so many ways to fly and fight.
One of those methods to fighting is, of course, dirty. And what Yuri asks? That's dirty fighting. That's what gets him full eye contact as Will finishes off the cup of coffee, though. Draining it and setting its empty husk on the counter between them.
He's not physically afraid of Yuri. If he seems to be taking that at all seriously, the talk of drugged drinks being a possible in the here and now, it doesn't show. He doesn't need to insult either of them pretending he believes that Yuri is saying something else with this charmingly protective tale of a Russian judge and his Russian pothead teenage pal. If there actually is a drug in this coffee, then Will runs the risk of passing out or being sick in a set amount of time and going down a little too confident, but that's one risk he's okay taking.]
Black and hot, just like I've always liked it. [Though of a higher quality than his usual fare. Even when he got out on his own and started holding a good enough income, he still strayed to the coffees that could eat rust and strip paint off walls. He leans back, crossing his arms and propping his other foot up on one of the counter's shelves.] You're doing quite a lot of assuming. Assuming in brilliant extremes, too. Very. Dramatic. [There is a reason that Will's eyes fall to Yuri's tie. Theater, is that it? Freddie and Will are not theatrical in the same way. Their theater is on a Goddamn budget. Drugged, shit, like Will would be handing out his prescription pills and Freddie, without the additional benefits of being Registered, could afford it. Please. They are the poor folk who escaped the regular 9-5s in different, clashing ways.] I was holed up at a friend's house that night getting updates on the situation and keeping an eye on my communicator.
[He can take that stir stick and shove it where the sun don't shine. Yuri's crossing territory here, and Will won't have it. He will give him the house number, sure. It's the house with a talking dog, it makes sense Will would have found a friend there. But getting April's name specifically?
He's got a better chance of passing a camel through the eye of a needle.]