infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

[This is so uncomfortable. And awkward. Or maybe that's him.]

yeah but i can't i can come over on the weekends if you want sundays always off at the shop i don't know about the guys but i don't don't think ace is secretly got thumbs up his sleeves ever need someone to put something together or fix a leak porter doesn't take that long it's not so bad is it? why do you even want me so close by?

[So he can sleep on the floor??????]

eh
i never really hated you
that doesn't happen so often
to people not like
supervillains
or minions thereof
anyway
but weekends work i guess
should i write your roomies about joint custody

you never really hated me that is praise worthy of my resume you don't need to do that i'm a grown up they know i can fend for myself but we should probably talk about this supervillain stuff and if someone moves in the ghost room do i get the floor

[Moving up. Same room!!!! First base in six months unless he sweats on the floor so much it starts to rot.]

if someone moves in
you get the long threatened raccoon bed
on my floor
and there's nothing to talk about
villains are more fun

Edited (words are hard yo) 2014-09-04 01:45 (UTC)

raccoon mating season isn't until around january so it's not a threat until then i got that you think that you know what i did for a living right put the "villains" away is that not interesting

[How does he woo someone without constantly talking about murder???]

you dedicated your life to the baddies
obviously you agree with me
if the heroes were more fun
you'd be a cheerleader
and my raccoons don't have girlfriends

not really i don't use those words hero/villain it's the same thing cheerleaders have to be able to smile on command sincerely THAT WOULD BE THE PROBLEM WOULDN'T IT you know raccoons are into foreplay i'm not into raccoon floorplay

[ PUNS WILL. FUCKING REALLY ]

first
:|
now moving on
are you saying you can't lie smile

[REALLY REALLY, SHREK.]

8| the 8 is glasses not that you wear them i do not really seems to creep people out more than anything else

[There were smartass smiles and laughter but there was no true smile until 20 episodes in.

He has a problem with his mouth. Doesn't do normal things.]

show me

[age/smile/lunacy?]

show you what? the bad smile?

that's the one
maybe people just aren't seeing it right

[Turning it on isn't a problem. Not doing his pleased grimace-smile because he does appreciate April is the problem, so when that smile becomes all warped and twisted, it does look rather wrong.

Actually, he looks like he might throw up.

And then possibly murder someone. Or perhaps do that during the barf. Convenient distraction. This is definitely the guy that is okay to sleep on the floor.]

[ She does believe in some fairness with people she ~~likes~~ doesn't hate, so she goes to video as well.

And proceeds to laugh and laugh at the expression. ]

Okay. They were wrong. Not creepy but- oh my god, stop smiling.

[Oh no, no, this is good, this is not so bad. This is not wading into the territory of oh, poor Will and his sad smile, he must be hugged after he's reminded how unstable he is (like he could forget), this is—this isn't that. This is laughter and for someone who's had much worse than laughter thrown at him, well. It's a little easy to just

morph that not smile

a little more hideous. Hello friend.]

[ Not helping Will. April actually covers her mouth, the whole lower half of her face even, as he....what. Tries harder? Mocks her? And laughs a little more. ]

Oh my god, I was right. You're so an evil man.

[Oh no, he has more, he has an arsenal of unhappy smiles, and they fluctuate so well! It's like he's made a path for himself in this world of smiling people, a path where the smiling people see his smile and make paths elsewhere. Far away from him. This, this is the confused smile that's trying to stay on his face. He's trying to be friendly and do that odd smile thing all the other people do, but it's not working, it's not. He's being laughed at, why are you laughing?

Which really only works until a furrier, friendlier face appears behind him, Gunther the Mustached Menace popping in to lick at the back of his neck and ruin it all. And that, yes, that is a laugh from Will Graham. Part actual joy part dogs!, but that would be a laugh.]

There, see? Me and smiles, we don't work so well.

[Except when he does shit like that and his dogs come running, naturally.]

Mm. Okay. You should stick with looking how you look. You're a terrible cheerleader.

[ It doesn't take much for April to calm down totally. Like all the way back to a neutral expression totally. Almost as if she has practice squishing down her amusement in order to project her deadpan attitude.

But the appearance of the puppy does get a small, soft over viciously amused, smile.]

But you're okay how you are naturally.

[Terrible cheerleader, yes. That would be him, him in his plaid sitting on the floor like he doesn't have a bed or a chair or anything else (he does). Him watching her carefully and ignoring when the dog goes back to sniffing him. His hair. His head.

It's a little bit like watching monkeys in a zoo. If April guessed Will might often wake up with a dog snorting about his face and not push him away but pull him up, thus not breaking the habit? She might be right.]

You know that ceremony we had, up here? [He's not leaning forward. The dog is just rooting around so that he nudges Will every now and then.] Told me if I shaved and started doing injections in my eyebrows, I could be a model.

[That face, the way his eyebrows lift—what do you think? This guy getting his hair all messed up by a dog and not even caring.

Is this why he's on the floor.]

Mm. Maybe. Even without that stuff, you're pretty enough.

[ Not even a hesitation or a shift in tone there, it's just an objective fact. Kinda old as he may be, Will is pretty. Even sitting on the floor, staring at her while she's seated on her bed, an odd raccoon or too scampering in the background. Just pretty.]

So long as there's no smiling. I don't know if they know the magic of photoshop here yet.

[He wasn't expecting that—nor was he expecting Gunther's licks to stop because he sneezed doggy snot all over the back of his neck the moment April finished speaking, as if Will had forgotten he was there. In a somewhat animal-unfriendly movement, Will reaches out to bodily shove the dog off screen. It's possible he's grown used to Gunther's sneezing, the fits, and knows that it's going to get worse. It does, but that sneezing is further away and not all over him. Victory.]

Pretty model prisoner. [His voice is a little too rough for him to sound entirely flippant. But wait, if she's this into the bad guys and he's got...] I still got it, you know. Orange jumpsuit I came here in. Haven't had it in me to get rid of it.

[Wanna see? is implied, but not stated. He's still got his hand out to keep the dog at bay. The dog who has been sneezing the entire time. Normal day in a Graham home, this. This furry mess here.]

[ She does her best to try to follow the puppy as he is ejected from the scene, even as her smirk comes slightly back at the interaction. It's sad to see the puppy moved, but she knows how it goes. Animal snot as only funny when it happens to other people.

But when he's solidly off the screen, her attention does fully back to Will, and she considers him for a long moment before replying.

Will Graham, what are you plotting? And what is she going to do about it?]

I thought it was a future thing. The jail and murders and Freddie becoming your number one stalker fan and all.

[The sneezing stops, which means Will can take his hand back. For now. For now, the dog seems content to lick its snout and curl up next to his leg, eyes glancing at the screen. He sees you, April.]

It is and it isn't. Freddie's been on my trail for months now. [It's an uncomfortable thing to try to explain, but she probably should know more about it. Considering she isn't demanding or even asking, it's easier to run with.] Just before I got Ported in, I was arrested for... [This topic is not one he's fond of, it's so impossible to miss.] ...some things they found in my house. Body parts. Hair, bone fragment, an ear I threw up in my sink. [So much drama for a dog fighting fish man, so much.] Five people, technically. Didn't believe it was me, so I— [Did something that most can't, wouldn't.] beat the snot out of the guards and driver, threw them out, dumped the vehicle, ran to find an explanation of why. Who. How. Stalling because I could. When I got here, I was in orange and had a busted thumb. That's how you get out of handcuffs. One way, at least if you don't have a key.

[At least he can be informative and helpful on how to get out of handcuffs?]

It was just Frederick Chilton and another guy we know when I got here. They were a little behind me, time-wise. So I didn't mention it.

[If she's been around long enough to see Chilton in action, surely she can understand.]

You threw up an ear.

[ Will, that is usually the kind of info you mention before accepting an invitation to stay in someone's house. Where they sleep. Behind a only very weakly locked door. Not that it would have changed her answer on taking him in or not, it's just generally polite. But of all the points (breaking your own thumb?) that's the one she can't help but echo.

She runs one hand through her hair, for once actually buying time to think of a reply instead of just blurting the first thing that comes to mind or tossing back a harsh joke. Possibly more importantly, she bothers to try to hide the fact she doesn't have a reply instead of just blankly staring at him until he starts talking again out of discomfort. But don't think she missed that didn't believe it was me. ]

Okay. So, you're kind of a mess. But its not like you had to mention it. Stuff from before, it's, mm...whatever happened, it's not like it has to matter. Unless it starts happening again. Here. Or you want it to.

[It would have been polite, wouldn't it? But how does one bring that up in any polite conversation? It's a rude, horrifying subject. At least he had the good grace not to do it sometime when it was just the two of them, totally alone in the same room. Or, as alone as they could be, because send out the raccoons might have not been taken well if he was going to turn it into a talk about...

It's just better this way.

Him wanting it to, God, that's the bitterest excuse for a laugh, and he somehow seems to have shrunk in, lost some weight.]

A whole one. [Not digested at all, and not a lobe or a part. A whole freaking ear.] It's not happening again because it wasn't me. I didn't do any of that. Wouldn't. A good frame job, sort you'd put up in a fancy museum. [Or a hospital for the criminally insane.] But that's not me, I don't—I don't hurt people. [Like that, at any rate.] Understand it's a lot of mess. Bloody, nasty mess. If that's. Deal-breaker, then I'm not gonna. Stalk you or complain or hold up a stereo outside your house or anything.

[Say Anything Except for "Go Away Cannibal Dog Man, I'm Calling the Police" the saddest movie ever, costarring 400 dogs and more raccoons.]

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