[ He asserts clarity, and it's up to her to decide on if she believes him. That's important, more important than what he's done or who he's protected. If Will isn't self-aware yet, then that proves as more of a danger than a killer. She thinks, she decides, he's no rabid dog. That much is urged on by what he suddenly asks, referring a scene that was presumably everything but controlled. Presumably.
Of course, a straight answer on this comes with a risk. She doesn't know what he saw at the fair, but she knows he saw something. Something that wasn't worth commenting on, or something that he felt he couldn't. If he had seen what Abigail saw, that surely would have been worthy of comment, even off-brand sarcasm. So naturally, she wants to know. She wants to know, but that risks him saying or asking something he can't take back. She didn't come here to offer her support, only to be forced to bury him beneath the house she just brought a gift to.
More than that, even more than that, though, she wants to know (hear) about what she saw. That, too, comes with a different risk factor, as he's already forced to re-live Abigail's death and possibly his own. Clarity is fragile, and when it becomes too dark to see anything else, serves little purpose. ]
I saw you working. I saw...how you work.
[ Fucking fascinating is how. Mary doesn't belittle that opportunity to see a mind's working process, nor had she when getting the chance to witness Sherlock's mind palace. How Will's mind works is actually poetic, and not the forced mockery that Hannibal paints kitchen floors with. But then beyond that, it wasn't just work. She can't say that. ]
I saw a man wanting to be an animal. Seemed like...all the animals in one. [ Felt it, more like. She sits up straighter, both hands now gripping the mug that's still barely touched. Her brow crinkles with an unease that would have to be natural for any person to admit to seeing such a thing (the only unease she has is for someone else), but her breaths are steady and her focus isn't pulled by anxiety. ] One and two.
no subject
Of course, a straight answer on this comes with a risk. She doesn't know what he saw at the fair, but she knows he saw something. Something that wasn't worth commenting on, or something that he felt he couldn't. If he had seen what Abigail saw, that surely would have been worthy of comment, even off-brand sarcasm. So naturally, she wants to know. She wants to know, but that risks him saying or asking something he can't take back. She didn't come here to offer her support, only to be forced to bury him beneath the house she just brought a gift to.
More than that, even more than that, though, she wants to know (hear) about what she saw. That, too, comes with a different risk factor, as he's already forced to re-live Abigail's death and possibly his own. Clarity is fragile, and when it becomes too dark to see anything else, serves little purpose. ]
I saw you working. I saw...how you work.
[ Fucking fascinating is how. Mary doesn't belittle that opportunity to see a mind's working process, nor had she when getting the chance to witness Sherlock's mind palace. How Will's mind works is actually poetic, and not the forced mockery that Hannibal paints kitchen floors with. But then beyond that, it wasn't just work. She can't say that. ]
I saw a man wanting to be an animal. Seemed like...all the animals in one. [ Felt it, more like. She sits up straighter, both hands now gripping the mug that's still barely touched. Her brow crinkles with an unease that would have to be natural for any person to admit to seeing such a thing (the only unease she has is for someone else), but her breaths are steady and her focus isn't pulled by anxiety. ] One and two.