[His face hardens at the mention of euthanizing people. He doesn't have to say anything for it to be obvious they do not (if she can read people at all, it's obvious, but some people might not pick up on a guy who generally looks a little disappointed with life looking even more disappointed than usual), and he doesn't know what he'd say if she asked him about it. He's seen people in states that, if he could, instinct would kick him in the face and he'd shoot them full of something that would end them quickly and peacefully. How many dogs had he been unable to save? Strays he collected that were sicker than they seemed, had tumors, had crippling illness that they could not recover from and would only serve to shrivel their insides until they could not even eat or drink on their own, and like hell if they could hold onto their waste. Each time, Will had sat next to the poor mutt and scratched behind the ears, kept their focus on him when he might have been the only person who ever gave a damn, and watched them fade from a painful life into whatever happened once dogs stopped breathing and no longer had a heartbeat.

He'd seen people left in hideous states. One of the most notable having happened not too long before he got dragged into this superpowered mess. Died on his way to the hospital. Jesus Christ, they had a team of forensic scientists around them (including Will, even if he'd rather left that part of his career behind). They would have been able to take that suffering out in the shallow grave he was in, half-dead already and in tremendous pain, possibly so great that he could no longer feel it.

No. They do not. And he doesn't know exactly how to tackle a question of his opinions on it.]

We don't euthanize people where I'm from. Pretty sure it's the same here. [Human life is important. Will did what he did to save lives, even if it helped destroy his own. Guilt ate at him the same way mushrooms ate at the poor bastard he was looking over, thinking dead. But what happens when that human life leans more towards death or, worse: no longer human. Just a shell, a husk of the person they used to be. No longer walking or talking. Breathing. Existing. But not them, not anymore, not John Smith or Jane Williams. Another body that breathes and uses air and needs food. Besides that? Nothing "human" remained.] And seven dogs, yes. My area was a commonplace for people to get rid of dogs they didn't want. Or strays would wander up to the back porch. Found one curled up in the bushes during a hard freeze. Wouldn't have known she was out there if the other dogs hadn't started barking. Fortunate that we got her in when we did. [No one wants to wake up to a pupsicle.] I'd adopt out the ones that people would take. Ran background checks before to make sure they weren't going to do the Christmas puppy routine that had plenty of them at my house later on.

[Christmas puppy. He should explain that.]

There's a holiday called Christmas, end of December. People give each other gifts. The bigger the better. Lots of people would buy their children puppies. Puppies are cute. They'd buy them for being cute without researching the temperament of the breed. Or being ready to train a puppy. Few months later, kid's lost interest in the puppy. Parents don't want to deal with it. So they get rid of it. It stopped being cute. They didn't have the patience to properly break it. So it gets thrown out.

[While his opinion on euthanizing people is not easily read in tone or the look on his face, his opinion on Christmas puppies sure as shit is.]