[Oh, Jonathan. Will may not be talking his language right here and now, but those digs? Flesh, meat? Those are right up Will's alley. It shows, crawls beneath his skin, makes his blood boil, a fever both familiar and terrifying—how many times had he advised Jack to not let the Ripper rile him up? How many times had that worked? That hadn't gone so well for anyone in the end, so Will takes a moment.
His lips twist like he's just realized he put a very tart candy in his mouth before this all started, and he looks off, breathing out through flared nostrils as he makes a noise somewhere between another grunt and a tsk.]
So he's told you about Hannibal, too, huh?
[Dig enough, hit jackpot. However Frederick Chilton might speak of this mysterious Hannibal Lecter, there is something off about how easily Will brings it up. Not the same fondness he had for Alana, not at all, but there is a strange comfort with that name coming out of his mouth, tart face the end of Will's bitterness. He can't really be surprised. But he can hope that whatever's been said about him (something must have, mustn't it? That's so specific, flesh and meat) has been enough to spark curiosity.
Will Graham has spent a slew of time back home barking at every Tom, Dick, Harry, and Anne about Hannibal Lecter, he's still prepared to changed the topic right back. If it gets them off Frederick Chilton and Alana Bloom and ethics, it's worth it. It's worth it to throw another lit match on a pool of gasoline by invoking that name.
He's not here, after all. There will be no recompense for him for this. Safe as it gets.]
no subject
His lips twist like he's just realized he put a very tart candy in his mouth before this all started, and he looks off, breathing out through flared nostrils as he makes a noise somewhere between another grunt and a tsk.]
So he's told you about Hannibal, too, huh?
[Dig enough, hit jackpot. However Frederick Chilton might speak of this mysterious Hannibal Lecter, there is something off about how easily Will brings it up. Not the same fondness he had for Alana, not at all, but there is a strange comfort with that name coming out of his mouth, tart face the end of Will's bitterness. He can't really be surprised. But he can hope that whatever's been said about him (something must have, mustn't it? That's so specific, flesh and meat) has been enough to spark curiosity.
Will Graham has spent a slew of time back home barking at every Tom, Dick, Harry, and Anne about Hannibal Lecter, he's still prepared to changed the topic right back. If it gets them off Frederick Chilton and Alana Bloom and ethics, it's worth it. It's worth it to throw another lit match on a pool of gasoline by invoking that name.
He's not here, after all. There will be no recompense for him for this. Safe as it gets.]