She'd never heard of Lucifer. Quoting the bible hadn't been well thought out, he realizes, but her take on it is interesting. Instead of asking what he means or where he gets it from, she takes it and gives back her own thoughts on it (or what she might want him to think are her thoughts, she could be lying about everything to do with herself the same as everyone else here he's never met), gives him something to chew on later. Something to do during downtime that's not crossword puzzles or bookkeeping or looking through everything said to keep an eye on certain people.
It's not until she asks him for his own thoughts that he pulls a face, trying to figure out how to say it without saying too much or too little.]
Of course they're still human. They might not act in ways that humans like or understand very well, and they might not want to be thought of as another human, but that's...what they are. That's something they can't change. Back where I'm from, we're all human. [No superpowers, no talking dogs, no mutations, nothing. Just human.] That's how you catch them. And they're not all—people try to fit serial killers like I track into boxes. Labels. Something that makes sense to them but doesn't. Work. I prefer looking at the way they think as opposed to shoving them into categories. Waste of time until we lock them up, sometimes a waste of time even then.
[Just not Will's waste of time. Until they start killing the staff, then it's less a waste of his time and more an enormous throbbing headache.]
Not everyone who ends up doing that sort of thing would have done it if something hadn't happened to them to make them...not who they used to be.
[Which doesn't give lives back (even if they were the lives of people who should have been locked up themselves), but there are so many gray areas where Will works that sometimes it feels like black and white aren't anywhere to be seen.]
you wanted to be the forgotten
She'd never heard of Lucifer. Quoting the bible hadn't been well thought out, he realizes, but her take on it is interesting. Instead of asking what he means or where he gets it from, she takes it and gives back her own thoughts on it (or what she might want him to think are her thoughts, she could be lying about everything to do with herself the same as everyone else here he's never met), gives him something to chew on later. Something to do during downtime that's not crossword puzzles or bookkeeping or looking through everything said to keep an eye on certain people.
It's not until she asks him for his own thoughts that he pulls a face, trying to figure out how to say it without saying too much or too little.]
Of course they're still human. They might not act in ways that humans like or understand very well, and they might not want to be thought of as another human, but that's...what they are. That's something they can't change. Back where I'm from, we're all human. [No superpowers, no talking dogs, no mutations, nothing. Just human.] That's how you catch them. And they're not all—people try to fit serial killers like I track into boxes. Labels. Something that makes sense to them but doesn't. Work. I prefer looking at the way they think as opposed to shoving them into categories. Waste of time until we lock them up, sometimes a waste of time even then.
[Just not Will's waste of time. Until they start killing the staff, then it's less a waste of his time and more an enormous throbbing headache.]
Not everyone who ends up doing that sort of thing would have done it if something hadn't happened to them to make them...not who they used to be.
[Which doesn't give lives back (even if they were the lives of people who should have been locked up themselves), but there are so many gray areas where Will works that sometimes it feels like black and white aren't anywhere to be seen.]