infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

[Will has yet to realize the extent of his cannibalism. His, hers, the rhyme that plays right in front of his eyes. He does, however, recall the horror on her face when Lecter voiced the likelihood of her father sharing his kills, ruined only by additional horror, blood on her face and coming across Will staring at the dead face of poor, impaled Marissa. The screaming, the fact that he'd stayed at his post and let someone else handle her—there were times when he wondered if that was the right decision.

Of course, back then, he had assumed that Alana wasn't the only one in the room he could actually trust. That if he did the immediate parts of the job first, Abigail had both Alana and Hannibal to tend to her care, that she'd understand Will was doing what he was supposed to. That he wouldn't be potentially shoving her closer into the arms of someone who had the opposite of her best interests in mind.

He throws another bit of the sausage at the dog as Abigail does that weird thing human who likes cats do, that paying them attention, that acting like they really enjoy their company. Will's content to perch on his stool and feed the dog out of his hand, watch him grow more aggravated and excited as he refuses to just toss it on the floor and let him have at.

He looks back when he gets the compliment, realizes she's talking to the dog, and can't be bothered to act offended. He's not.]

Handsome's good. It's what he's got going for him. [That tail wags uncontrollably as Will finally opens the bag and holds it out, as the dog stuffs his bearded stupid face into it.] Oxygen deprivation in the womb. Came cheap for it. His breed's smart. He's not. [Will nods back to the cat.] She's figured it out. She's been torturing him ever since she came in.

[Cats and dogs, man.]

If she were a boy cat and Gunther was a lady dog then Ziggy would just be "boys being boys". [ reaching forward, abigail scoops up to small animal into her arms, gathering her up like her very own cat baby, scratching at the cat's throat so her paws curl around abigail's arm. it's adorable. she doesn't seem to mind the way the cat's head twists to bite at her fingers.

she smiles again when she sees gunther with his face in the bag. that would be worth putting up with that awful job. ] No one knows about feline intelligence, because they're too uncooperative and mercurial to test.

[ says the girl holding an apparently perfectly docile cat, gnawing on her knuckles. sounds familiar: stubborn, uncooperative, mercurial... if abigail were an animal, she would be a kitten, not a shrike. ] But they're incredibly loyal.

[It's not the commentary on feline loyalty that has his lips thinning out, has him leaning back further against the stool as Gunther takes to licking the bag itself. Abigail might look a little silly as she talks about it, the cat twisting and gnawing and being a cat. But she's also dealing with Will Graham, who's looking pretty Goddamn silly himself.

He lets go of the bag, gives Gunther a new tasty snout hat, and crosses his arms, surveying the tiny kingdom before him. Dumb dog, fishing crap, cat, Abigail. Abruptly:]

Do you think I'd treat you differently if you were a boy? [He manages to keep eye contact once he gets it, if she'll let him. He won't be the one to drop it this time.] Have we got problems to discuss?

[About the way she's being treated, naturally.

Walk in the shop like what up, is it serious conversation time.]

No problems. I like us. But you would treat me differently if I were a boy. Everyone would. [ she knows this. she also knows that her being, effectively, a little girl is why she was only ever suspected of helping her father. if she were garrett jacob hobbs' teenage son it would have been a foregone conclusion. violence and aggression is an assumed aspect of being a teenage boy, not so with teenage girls.

she shrugs a little, looking away, breaking that rare eye contact as she sets the cat down on the floor, running her fingers over the cat's neck one last time before she straightens up. she doesn't have any illusions that will would have cared for her if she wasn't the tiny, breakable girl whose blood had stained his hands as he tried to stem her bleeding. would he have even tried?

being a girl, being a delicate, seemingly innocent girl is what makes abigail so strong. she knows what she has and she works with it, to her benefit. ]

I'd be dead or Jack Crawford would have put me in jail. No one would have bothered Alana to talk to me. I'd've gone straight from the hospital to Dr Chilton's. [ the cat winds around her ankles as she moves forward and leans against the counter, fingertips drumming against the top of it. ] No less than I deserve. [ she glances up again, blue eyes soft and resigned. ] But on the upside, you wouldn't have had to keep my secrets.

[It's a good thing she keeps the meat of those thoughts to herself, because Will Graham would have Issues with some of them. At first, he thinks she just means in general—girls have Barbies (back when Barbies weren't human-sized and selling toothpaste) and pink bedding, boys have Tonka trucks and blue bedding. But then she mentions Jack Crawford and his face hardens, arms crossing over his chest without him having to actively tell them to do as much. The cat is ignored, the dog with the bag still stuck to his face is ignored, the world for him melts down to Abigail Hobbs, nothing and no one else. The shop could catch fire and it doesn't seem like he'd notice.

Chilton. Deserving Chilton. His jaw clenches, seizes harder when he hears the last of it, wired shut as opposed to gaping.]

You don't deserve Chilton. Not many do. [But Will's going to end up with him whether he likes it or not, already has in a time yet to happen. Chilton's verified it multiple times by now, and although Abel Gideon might be a little fuzzy on plenty of details, so is Will. A broken clock is still right twice a day. Freddie Lounds provides additional backup and so much more, more he can't reveal without going through it himself. Does Will deserve that fate? Probably. Especially considering...] I never had to keep your secrets, Abigail. You didn't blackmail me. You didn't force me to. I did it of my own volition. I did it because I wanted to. I did it for you, yes, but I did it all by myself.

[And he'd do it again, and again, and again. He'd do it for the rest of his life. He'd ignore the mourning Boyles to keep it so Abigail could rest in peace, wherever she was. He's not the monsters he chases, no.

But he's certainly not the cleanest member of law enforcement on their tails.

Arguably, Lecter played a big part in Will's silence on the matter. He's not going to address that part. Not with Abigail, not with Lecter. Not with himself. It's not a very stable thing to partake of, arguing with oneself.]

[ came in here for a cat, leaves with emotions. ]

You did it because I'm a girl. [ she smiles, a lopsided little grin that holds no mirth. ] You wanted to protect me. Society says boys don't need protecting, that little girls are the ones who need to be protected. It's why women who are in their late twenties are still called girls.

[ looking down again, staring at her nails and pale hands in desperate need of sunshine just like the rest of her, the bitter caricature of a smile disappears. ]

I know I didn't force you. But if I weren't... If I didn't... [ her breath gets pushed out in a sharp sigh. ] You shouldn't have. I shouldn't have let you. I should have told Jack Crawford the truth. Or Alana. Then you wouldn't have -- [ been force fed an ear and wound up in jail not having pissing contests with hannibal. ] I'm sorry.

[Jack Crawford or Alana, why can neither of them be here right now? It would go so much better. The sorry isn't what has him looking grimmer than usual, isn't what his him tasting liquor on the back of his tongue. Oh no.]

I'm sorry you feel that way. [About Will's motivations, about herself. Why is no one else here to break this up, to make it possible without Will looking like he wants nothing to do with her or can't handle her? So, in a drastic last attempt to do as much without being a total douchebag, he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, licks thumb and forefinger, and starts doling out cash, using the counter to lay it out, explaining as he goes.] I had her taken care of. She's spayed and got all her shots, but you're gonna need a litter box, you're gonna need food. [Which means, flip flip, more money.] Food and water dish. And a collar with tags. [Otherwise...could be stolen. He pauses for a second, the dog lover in him doing its best to transfer to cats as he lays out the rest.] Something to brush her with and a bed. Any medical issues crop up, you let me know and I'll cover expenses.

[Giving children money in the expectation that they will get the hell out of his personal space is a dad thing, isn't it? Usually a movie ticket or drink or something smaller, not Will Graham. The cat will be spoiled, he had said. He hadn't meant to do it on his own, but...]

This should cover all the basics you can get in a store.

[With room leftover for some of those basics to be really nice.]

[ she doesn't feel too shunted aside, if only because he has brushed aside her apologies before, she can recognize it as something similar to that. she does the same. feelings are too hard? abruptly change the subject. works like a charm.

and she trusts that what will had said before about caring about her for her still rings true. (she's already locked and screenshot that text, she is never losing it ever. her phone is now her prized possession.)

but she does, however, extract a handful of bills and hand them back. ] I'm not going to buy her a collar made out of diamonds. [ too much money. she's not used to decadence or opulence and even that seemingly small amount of money is a lot to her. strange, because of her time with hannibal, the picture of decadent elegance. hashtag minnesota life. ] Can I... still pick up shifts here?

[Come in for cat, insult the shit out of him, hand him money back. Why does anyone actively work to be a parent?

There's no argument on his end, because that prolongs things and makes them even more uncomfortable (though perhaps that's all on his end, too). He just shoves back what's been returned and slides the wallet back into his pocket, adjusting the hat a little bit, what could be seen as nervousness taking form in a way that's not refusing eye contact.]

Long as it fits, it's comfortable, and it's got some ID on it, it works. [A shrug, casual.] And yeah, just let me know when. Shop's open every day but Sunday.

[ she turns, shoving the rest of the money in her back pocket, to retrieve the cat again with a quiet ] Okay. [ scooping her up, she automatically settles the cat in a way that leaves one hand free if she needs it. she doesn't need it, deciding petting gunther while holding ziggy would be. something.

instead she just, keeps going. /upsets will, /fails at everything, this is how you lose an ear in this biz. w/e she has a cat. cat ladying can commence immediately. ]

Bye Will. Bye Gunther.

[He doesn't let her get too far before, quietly, almost like he had the ability to forget he had something stowed away for her:]

Oh, wait.

[A pat to the pocket in his shirt, no, no, of course not. But the distracted look is important, and since he keeps plenty of things in it as it is, it's not exactly an illogical conclusion that he would stuff something in it if he was expecting the new owner to be by soon. There's a pause before he reaches under the counter and pulls out a drawer, rifles through it, and finally holds out a small plastic bag. A small plastic bag containing a keychain shaped like that not-quite Buttercup but close enough, the one she'd liked on the fishing rods. Her arms are crossed and she's looking ready to kick all the ass, and Will's looking the opposite of it as he holds her out.]

Got one of each in shipment. You liked her best, thought she'd find a good home with you, too.

[Cats and keychains. One a strange animal that he never deals with much, the other a mundane part of life. Will can't live with her. Not with things like they are now, not at all. But he can add a little bit of himself without actively seeing it as such.

Abigail doesn't need to give him anything to be a continual thought. Not. At. All.]

[ abigail looks at it stupidly for a moment, as if she doesn't quite understand, even as her closes her hand around it. no, she will never say no to a gift from will. (money doesn't count.) ]

Thanks. [ a beat. ] Actually, could you do me a favor? It'll be quick and probably painless.

[His eyebrows knit together just enough to show a little confusion, though at what isn't easy to tell. Confusion that she would ever think he wouldn't do her a favor, confusion at the idea of a favor for her being painless, confusion at the fact of the matter that she's asking instead of just saying it. Though, being polite does pay off. Perhaps that's the lesson everyone ends up learning the hard way. The hard, dead, painful way.]

Sure. What do you need?

[It sounds normal enough, a regular conversation between two people. But Abigail is Abigail and could ask him for favors that don't qualify as normal at all and...well, like hell he'd deny her too much.

Not referencing money, either.]

[ setting the cat down gently, she pulls her phone out of her back pocket. ] Picture?

[ of him.

with her.

s...elfie??? ]

[He watches, careful, uncertain, and then...

Ah.

That's a smile, that's the ticket—though he'd never phrase it aloud in such a way, of course not. Still, the way his face lights up is enough of a tell that yes, this is one favor he can definitely oblige, something that's not painful for him at all.]

You got it.

[But not with the stupid hat, which ends up making his more ruffled. Not that he cares when he leans in to join her, not at all bothered about keeping distance. He can follow directions well enough, can listen to a count down, can hold still. But even if she "clicks" on 2 instead of 3, there's still that smile plastered on his face. And even though he keeps his eyes forward, he still ends up looking like he'd rather be keeping his eyes all on her.

God he looks so happy.]

[ snip snip, watch out or that messy hair will be gone...

abigail holds the phone steady, thumb brushing against the click half of the point and click, it means she takes about fifty pictures since she doesn't let up even as she's stretching up to bridge some of the height difference. it also means there are a handful of shots where she's looking up at will before a smile spreads across her face and her head tips to lean in against him. when she lets up her thumb the last picture comes with a resounding CLICK.

immediately, her focus turns to the phone as she scrolls through the mess of pictures to find one she deems acceptable of the both of them -- no blinking, no stupid faces, actually looking at the camera -- and flicks her finger to send it to will's phone, eyes drifting back up. ]

Thanks.

[There's plenty of stupid faces to be on his end, of course, but that smile stays present. Stays present even after the last CLICK, doesn't falter until his ass pocket lets out a noise and he pats it, a moment of confusion before he realizes that, yes, of course, Abigail just sent him something. That's why it's going off. He doesn't pull it out, won't look at it until she's gone, doesn't want anyone around to see him when...well, he'll probably wander off the to the back room or the rooms full of live bait to give himself some proper, alone time to take it all in without risking anyone seeing that shouldn't.

Easier to get away with rubbing his nose and slightly reddened eyes if he's walking out of a room full of crickets, anyway.]

Any time. [The polite thing to say, but his voice isn't just polite. It's a promise without being a promise, and Ziggy gets a pat to her ears before he picks her back up and hands her off. He might not be a cat lover, but he sure seems to have it on lock with this one. Holds her like a beloved family member, even, as opposed to a nasty creature he can't believe he's anywhere near.] Tell me if you need anything else for hairball here.

[ ♫ hard bargain -- ron sexsmith ]

'kay. [ and with ziggy stardust, defender of the galaxy or whatever, in her arms and stupid picture on her phone, she turns and scampers out without another word or even a goodbye. so she can go buy a cat bed and print out and frame that picture.

and then put it in her room.

to look at when she's lonely/depressed/scared/sad/any emotion that probably isn't good. because right now, in this place, will is an anchor. not holding her down, but holding her steady. ]

IC contact [Mask or Menace]

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