Good. [Please stay there goes unsaid, but Chilton has no reason to run from Will Graham, does he? Not yet. Hopefully it can stay that way.] I'll be over in ten minutes.
[That's that, then. Another promise and he hangs up.
He does the FBI's dirty work for them. Good summary there. No FBI around, not that he was involved with, who else would he do dirty work for, if not the others from Baltimore? Old jeans, a plaid shirt that's clearly faded, shoes that aren't in the best condition—he purposefully picks a wardrobe that can be completely discarded without any real loss behind it but doesn't shout anything strange. He just looks like a regular guy who loves plaid and doesn't have anyone doing his shopping. This isn't the first time Will Graham's come through the front door, and he will definitely be stopping by Abigail Hobbs' room on his way out. He won't utter her name as a reason for why he's there, intends to blame it on the cat should any housemates be out and about and inquire. Came back over because she was acting up, they had forgotten her favorite plaything, and she was now wreaking havoc on the house at large. Will simply got up and walked from one part of Heropa to another, he wouldn't be long.
He could not serve as a proper alibi for Frederick Chilton, not with this. Staying too long, no matter what path they decided on, wasn't the wisest course of action, as far as Will was concerned.
Abigail's door opens first, if her housemate is listening in, waiting. Opens long enough to sound like someone's gone in before the door shuts, and then nothing. Quiet footsteps lead to one room he's been curious about, the three knocks he delivers to the door perhaps louder for the former silence.]
Frederick?
[Perhaps Will sounded more like a friend now, than ever before, when he managed to say his name with absolutely no bite. Worried, hopeful, soft, not at all like the bitter Fredericks he so often had to deal with when he had Will, however briefly, caged and clamped and collared.]
action y/n? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rsPa8QgGGkc
[That's that, then. Another promise and he hangs up.
He does the FBI's dirty work for them. Good summary there. No FBI around, not that he was involved with, who else would he do dirty work for, if not the others from Baltimore? Old jeans, a plaid shirt that's clearly faded, shoes that aren't in the best condition—he purposefully picks a wardrobe that can be completely discarded without any real loss behind it but doesn't shout anything strange. He just looks like a regular guy who loves plaid and doesn't have anyone doing his shopping. This isn't the first time Will Graham's come through the front door, and he will definitely be stopping by Abigail Hobbs' room on his way out. He won't utter her name as a reason for why he's there, intends to blame it on the cat should any housemates be out and about and inquire. Came back over because she was acting up, they had forgotten her favorite plaything, and she was now wreaking havoc on the house at large. Will simply got up and walked from one part of Heropa to another, he wouldn't be long.
He could not serve as a proper alibi for Frederick Chilton, not with this. Staying too long, no matter what path they decided on, wasn't the wisest course of action, as far as Will was concerned.
Abigail's door opens first, if her housemate is listening in, waiting. Opens long enough to sound like someone's gone in before the door shuts, and then nothing. Quiet footsteps lead to one room he's been curious about, the three knocks he delivers to the door perhaps louder for the former silence.]
Frederick?
[Perhaps Will sounded more like a friend now, than ever before, when he managed to say his name with absolutely no bite. Worried, hopeful, soft, not at all like the bitter Fredericks he so often had to deal with when he had Will, however briefly, caged and clamped and collared.]