[No, Will didn't have any idea. He'd run around legal circles all his life, knew that being dirty and willing to play in the mud from time to time could help someone excel in their chosen field, no matter how much they didn't want that to be true. That after long enough exposure to how corrupted and disgusting it could be, one grew used to diving straight into the muck and the mire, one grew used to ignoring it, one grew to try calling it out and found themselves on the chopping block.
Taking risks, even if that resulted in built up grime underneath his fingernails he'd never get out no matter how many times he washed his hands? One could say that's part of why he excelled, excelled and went down in a blazing ball of bloody murder. Hopefully that's not how this ends (no more ears in his stomach, please and thanks), but it was time to ignore rolling up his sleeves and shove his hands right in the shit, wasn't it. Time to make sure that walking out the door is the least appealing option, and what better way than with "hey I'm an accused murderer look at me out and loose does it make your judge pants burns":]
When the Porter picked me up, I was wearing an orange jumpsuit. One of those jumpsuits. I'd covered it as much as I could with what I could take off the orderlies transporting me. Do you know how difficult it is to zip up a jacket after you broke your own thumb and had to use it in a physical fight? [Purged? This entire shop needed to be burned, from owner to MASTER BAITER bumper stickers. What a nightmare.] First thing Freddie Lounds does when she gets here? Say I've gone away and been acquitted of murdering four young women. Suppose that sounds more monstrous than adding the middle-aged male neurosurgeon found nearly decapitated at the jaw.
[Did someone say temper? Maybe that sounds like a temper tantrum (and he's even told it in a way that spins it exactly like that, because Frederick Chilton being his caretaker was about as desirable as eating bars of used soap at a local gym), but the way he says it is incredibly calm. If Yuri can put that to the situation, well.
He's a little dangerous, damn right. A little dangerous and a little beyond well done with Freddie Lounds. He has had it to the gills with her, his voice says. Gills that can no longer separate what he needs to breathe, lets in sludge and slime in its place. But it's calmer than anything else, an accepted sort of rage that is on a constant simmer. Easier to talk about, one hand resting on the counter and the other taking that stupid hat off his head and tossing it to the side.]
You want me to cooperate? Don't come in here already having thrown me into a cage. That's what I go home to, if I ever go home. The last way you will find me anywhere near cooperative is by trapping me and trapping me with her.
[Isn't that sort of a general rule of life? Don't throw someone in a cage and poke them, they might get snappy? Might lash out? Might relinquish a lot of blankets and throw some shade in the process; why would Will lie about something as relatively minor as taking part in ~drugging~ a teenager if he's willing to share this?
no subject
Taking risks, even if that resulted in built up grime underneath his fingernails he'd never get out no matter how many times he washed his hands? One could say that's part of why he excelled, excelled and went down in a blazing ball of bloody murder. Hopefully that's not how this ends (no more ears in his stomach, please and thanks), but it was time to ignore rolling up his sleeves and shove his hands right in the shit, wasn't it. Time to make sure that walking out the door is the least appealing option, and what better way than with "hey I'm an accused murderer look at me out and loose does it make your judge pants burns":]
When the Porter picked me up, I was wearing an orange jumpsuit. One of those jumpsuits. I'd covered it as much as I could with what I could take off the orderlies transporting me. Do you know how difficult it is to zip up a jacket after you broke your own thumb and had to use it in a physical fight? [Purged? This entire shop needed to be burned, from owner to MASTER BAITER bumper stickers. What a nightmare.] First thing Freddie Lounds does when she gets here? Say I've gone away and been acquitted of murdering four young women. Suppose that sounds more monstrous than adding the middle-aged male neurosurgeon found nearly decapitated at the jaw.
[Did someone say temper? Maybe that sounds like a temper tantrum (and he's even told it in a way that spins it exactly like that, because Frederick Chilton being his caretaker was about as desirable as eating bars of used soap at a local gym), but the way he says it is incredibly calm. If Yuri can put that to the situation, well.
He's a little dangerous, damn right. A little dangerous and a little beyond well done with Freddie Lounds. He has had it to the gills with her, his voice says. Gills that can no longer separate what he needs to breathe, lets in sludge and slime in its place. But it's calmer than anything else, an accepted sort of rage that is on a constant simmer. Easier to talk about, one hand resting on the counter and the other taking that stupid hat off his head and tossing it to the side.]
You want me to cooperate? Don't come in here already having thrown me into a cage. That's what I go home to, if I ever go home. The last way you will find me anywhere near cooperative is by trapping me and trapping me with her.
[Isn't that sort of a general rule of life? Don't throw someone in a cage and poke them, they might get snappy? Might lash out? Might relinquish a lot of blankets and throw some shade in the process; why would Will lie about something as relatively minor as taking part in ~drugging~ a teenager if he's willing to share this?
(Because he's innocent of this, duh.)
((Sort of.))
(((Physically...?)))]