[Will's lips twitch, a hint of a smile, approval. That makes it easier, if anyone goes snooping. There are no marks from a cane, no sign that one has been in this place recently, how could it have been poor Doctor Chilton? A shady, deceitful argument, one marinated to work in his favor. That vanishes whenever his footing gives away, Will reminded of Peter in spite of who he's seeing. Rather than reach out to offer physical support, he pulls back, turns away to give Chilton some privacy, and is glad for it when the name Hannibal hits the air.
However relaxed his posture might be, for Will Graham, there's definitely a stiffening in his shoulders. The dreaded H-word. If there's one topic of conversation destined to lead to danger, he'd be at the top of the list. Joining that name with the mentions of consequences makes it impossible for Will not to tense. How long can Will Graham avoid talking about Hannibal Lecter when he's prompted and not stuck in a hospital bed? Forever, if possible. He's doing the same old wandering routine he'd done in Hannibal's office, though. Some things don't ever change.]
I believe you. [Words that Will would have appreciated hearing more than once, starved for any recognition that he was innocent, that the world around them all was still in danger, offered up lightly and without hesitation or bitterness. Which might contrast starkly with his next question.] Did you want me to go back over it [the scene of the crime] and take out anything that could lead to you, or leave it alone?
[A bloody rag has been stuffed right into the FBI bloodhound's nose. Good manners dictate he ask how Chilton wants him to proceed, if he wants him to proceed at all, once the rag gets blown out and the leash taken off his collar. That doesn't mean Will has to follow the preferences stated if he deems them in poor taste, of course, but it's always polite to at least present choices.]
walked right into that one didn't i
However relaxed his posture might be, for Will Graham, there's definitely a stiffening in his shoulders. The dreaded H-word. If there's one topic of conversation destined to lead to danger, he'd be at the top of the list. Joining that name with the mentions of consequences makes it impossible for Will not to tense. How long can Will Graham avoid talking about Hannibal Lecter when he's prompted and not stuck in a hospital bed? Forever, if possible. He's doing the same old wandering routine he'd done in Hannibal's office, though. Some things don't ever change.]
I believe you. [Words that Will would have appreciated hearing more than once, starved for any recognition that he was innocent, that the world around them all was still in danger, offered up lightly and without hesitation or bitterness. Which might contrast starkly with his next question.] Did you want me to go back over it [the scene of the crime] and take out anything that could lead to you, or leave it alone?
[A bloody rag has been stuffed right into the FBI bloodhound's nose. Good manners dictate he ask how Chilton wants him to proceed, if he wants him to proceed at all, once the rag gets blown out and the leash taken off his collar. That doesn't mean Will has to follow the preferences stated if he deems them in poor taste, of course, but it's always polite to at least present choices.]