infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

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IC contact [Mask or Menace]

"Gone fishing."

[ so don't leave messages to ruin the after fishing glow !!!

your one stop shop for not leaving him alone ]

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[Up goes an eyebrow—there are numerous reasons anyone in this world could have for coming to his door, especially after Freddie Lounds and her wonderful work getting the majority of the population to think her an evil heartless vile stain of shit on the underwear of life, but Yuri and he have a more interpersonal relationship than that. A more interpersonal relationship that includes...

Nah.

He takes the coffee as it is, the look of confusion on his face replaced with something like amusement. Can I take a break from bookkeeping when you're asking me? Pfft.]

I'm always able to take a break from bookkeeping.

[He doesn't pop open the coffee to sniff at it. He doesn't lift the lid to add anything else. Sludge. That is his preference. Hot sludge that he takes a sip of as his eyes move from Yuri's face to his collar and Will shifts in a way that implies he's spent too much time on his ass, not that he's uncomfortable with the situation at hand.

He isn't. Yet.

He's been fed human beings for breakfast without realizing it, and he still has no idea. Why on Earth would he refuse a hot cup of coffee hand delivered without asking for monetary recompense? That would just be insane.]

What's on your mind?

I'm glad.

[What's on his mind?

What a loaded question.]

How long has it been since we went out on, ah...Sick Day, was it? Some weeks, I think. I feel terrible for having been so distant since then.

[Actually, he didn't, and even if he did, it wouldn't have been for the obvious reasons. Besides, Yuri was fairly certain Will didn't mind having been left alone. They shared an appreciation for being solitary, and with it, an understanding that keeping to oneself for any length of time was by no means a way of saying they were discontent with the other. It was nothing personal—or it hadn't been until Will had (allegedly) had a hand in drugging Jayden—simply a side-effect of their personal nature...and probably a side-effect of their personal lives, too.

Yuri took a sip of his tea.]

I heard about the hostage incident. A handful of people you knew were involved, weren't they? I do hope no one was harmed.

[Loaded questions, better than loaded guns?

Don't, he's tempted to say when Yuri mentions feeling terrible about falling out of touch, but with a mouth full of coffee, that would be difficult. He hasn't made an effort to contact Yuri, either. He had no need to. It's a two way street, both of them just as capable of sidling down it when and if they want to. Apparently, Yuri found that street today and couldn't take any other route. This is not a situation entirely born of want, is it? It's need.

Typical.

hostage incident has that relaxed stance thrown to the wind—like this, looking grave and more serious than he has any right to in such a stupid hat, Will is far more someone who would fit the bill of his former job, for better or worse. His former job that called for more coffee when he couldn't reach for booze, apparently.]

Me and mine are fine. [As opposed to everyone—everyone is no longer his concern. There are a handful of people who are his immediate worries and fears and hopes and dreams. He's focusing on them. Specifically, Abigail Hobbs.] Did someone you know have a part in it, too?

[Much better, yes, but then again, aren't most things? At least, if you shoot yourself with a loaded question it isn't as likely to be lethal. And, guaranteed, it won't stain a perfectly good suit, either.]

I have met a few of the people who were taken hostage, but I wouldn't consider myself close to any one of them. [He'd spoken to Abigail a handful of times over the network and had gotten the impression she didn't like him very much. Whatever her reasons, it hardly mattered. He could honestly say that, at this point, the feeling was mutual. As for the other person whom he knew had been involved...well, he hardly needed to be concerned for Annie Leonhart.] Actually, it would seem that the people closest to me were only indirectly involved in the incident. I suppose that is my good fortune, and theirs.

[Another sip of tea before he set his cup down and meets the other man's gaze.]

Though, in the case of Jayden, I am told I have you and Freddie Lounds to thank for that.

[Getting shot with a loaded question leaves room for the lethal end to be much worse. For both parties and whatever suit might be worn.

Will's feeling a little shot, but not just by Yuri. By Freddie. By Jayden. By himself, primarily. And instead of staring at the bullet he's firmly put it in his own foot and screaming in horror at it, the only alternative is to suck it up and dance like he's on fire anyway.

He can throw both himself and Freddie under the bus in different ways, and he'll do it if he needs to. Not because of guilt or shame or actual outrage over what might have been done, no. If Yuri had claimed any profession other than law, the reaction would be different. But he's been a judge, if he's not lying and the members of his world aren't playing along.

Judges know their law.

Judges know how to use the law. Judges might have already taken it upon themselves to look up this world's laws, more so than former non-members of the FBI who hide in bait shops and pretend they can't maintain eye contact.

Mother of fuck.

None of that shows, not when Will chooses to look at the dog coming out of the back room and eying them both, furrows his eyebrows, and sets the coffee down on the counter after a few seconds of seeming unable to decide if he wanted to do just that. If anything, he seems more dazed by the accusation than he does caught. How does he go about this, exactly, and what lines does he leap over to keep Abigail Hobbs out from under the bus, too?]

Told by who? [He can discredit Jayden. He can discredit Freddie. He can discredit someone putting two and two together just from his conversation with Abigail when the Manipulator revealed his plan. But to leave it at just that question is too obvious a fishing technique, which is why he swims right along without letting the question settle, confused and, dare it be said, reeling.] Freddie Lounds and I can barely tolerate each other on a good day. Don't thank us for anything. There is no us between Freddie Lounds and I. Just obnoxious tabloid journalism and me staying off her radar.

[He picks the cup back up and shoots Yuri a look that screams really? Really? Don't insult me. as he takes another sip. Screams it as much as the dripping disdain in his voice when he says Freddie's name screams other, more obscene words. In fact, it almost sounds like hate.

They don't need to be thanked for doing despicable shit; it's just another Tuesday on their end. Don't applaud that.]

[For now, Yuri opted to temporarily ignore Will's initial question, peeling the lid off his tea instead and reaching for two sugar packets which were promptly emptied into his drink.]

Do you expect me to believe it would be impossible for the two of you to cooperate with one another if your interests aligned? You're not that unreasonable. And Ms. Lounds is too much of an opportunist.

[Vulture would be another appropriate description of Freddie.]

In any case, I truly am grateful for what you intended to accomplish. In fact, I am even grateful for your success. Jayden was kept well away from the hostage site and was kept out of harm's way. [Picking up a stir stick, he began to whisk it around within his cup.] That is what I would like to say, at least.

[Yuri momentarily eyed the dog that had come out to investigate things before returning his full attention to Will.]

Tell me...are either you or Ms. Lounds a medical professional?

[That sip of coffee turns into more than a sip. It's still hot, but to someone who's dealt with raging fevers and kept on trucking in the middle of wintery nights that could only ever make them worse, what is a little hot coffee? Nothing. He can chug it without having to worry about burning the hair off his tongue; he's got more than enough on his face to make up for it.

His face which is currently growing more and more offended as Yuri speaks. Not just offended that Yuri is teaming Freddie and Will as more than they are (as what they are, truly, and it would bother him to know that Yuri called them a danger; bother him and fill him with the slightest trace of pride because when it comes to certain things and people, Baltimore does not back down and those who can't recognize it even in Freddie Lounds strike him as blind—is that Lecter talking, or him, or both?), but offense that he continues on in spite of it and thanks him. That's not enough to draw Will's heels out of the mud on this one, oh no. He is currently braced, a stubborn mule that planted its hooves in wet concrete, now halfway to the point of properly hardening.

It's going to take more than gratitude to pull this ass out of it. This ass that pulls the stool out of its spot to lean against it and contemplate Yuri getting an inferior quality stir stick that leaks toxins into his tea.

This motherfucker.]

I was nowhere near either of them that night. Whatever actions she might have done were hers and hers alone. I'd appreciate you taking that into account considering I don't even know what happened that you're expressing gratitude for. [Nothing I said made that happen, words that have yet to come out of his mouth but...well, close enough. His mouth which is about to reclaimed by that coffee. God, it's hot.] And if by medical professional, you mean she or I have titles behind our names, then no. I've got a degree in forensic science.

[If he wanted to drug someone in a way that would kill them and not look suspicious at all, he damn well could. That's reassuring, isn't it.]

If you were nowhere near them, can you confirm your whereabouts?

[There should have been a part of him that felt awful about this, about having to ask these questions of someone he had actually come to like and appreciate, but instead...having to ask felt more natural than anything else. Being suspicious felt more appropriate than trusting. And, if that meant that by the time he left Will's shop he would be minus a potential friend, so be it. That was how things were meant to be, after all. The fewer attachments to people he had, the better his ability to judge them when, inevitably, their time came.]

Ah, and as for what happened, I've learned that Jayden was offered an alcoholic beverage that was drugged, a problem for reasons beyond administering alcohol to an underage person. You see, lacking a medical title and access to his medical records, neither of you could have known if Jayden would have had severe reactions to what was slipped into his drink.

[Yuri set aside his stir stick and lifted his cup to his lips before pausing, peering at Will over the rim.]

How is your coffee, by the way?

[Will can, in fact, confirm his whereabouts. He nods to give that much away, eyes taking in the dog now coming up to plop down on his usual spot behind the counter with a look cast Yuri's way before he puts his head on his paws. He's here, he can feel the tension, he can sit out and stay out and be a good boy, but he's here in case he's needed.

The dog is a sweet pile of docile at the moment, the exact opposite of Will. Will with one foot up on that stool—all the better to brace with, perhaps—and even his good shoulder seeming bad, the words causing him to both stiffen and relax. His shoulders are tense but he's still hunched, that foot against the stool is planted but his leg appears at ease. Fight or flight, but there are so many ways to fly and fight.

One of those methods to fighting is, of course, dirty. And what Yuri asks? That's dirty fighting. That's what gets him full eye contact as Will finishes off the cup of coffee, though. Draining it and setting its empty husk on the counter between them.

He's not physically afraid of Yuri. If he seems to be taking that at all seriously, the talk of drugged drinks being a possible in the here and now, it doesn't show. He doesn't need to insult either of them pretending he believes that Yuri is saying something else with this charmingly protective tale of a Russian judge and his Russian pothead teenage pal. If there actually is a drug in this coffee, then Will runs the risk of passing out or being sick in a set amount of time and going down a little too confident, but that's one risk he's okay taking.]

Black and hot, just like I've always liked it. [Though of a higher quality than his usual fare. Even when he got out on his own and started holding a good enough income, he still strayed to the coffees that could eat rust and strip paint off walls. He leans back, crossing his arms and propping his other foot up on one of the counter's shelves.] You're doing quite a lot of assuming. Assuming in brilliant extremes, too. Very. Dramatic. [There is a reason that Will's eyes fall to Yuri's tie. Theater, is that it? Freddie and Will are not theatrical in the same way. Their theater is on a Goddamn budget. Drugged, shit, like Will would be handing out his prescription pills and Freddie, without the additional benefits of being Registered, could afford it. Please. They are the poor folk who escaped the regular 9-5s in different, clashing ways.] I was holed up at a friend's house that night getting updates on the situation and keeping an eye on my communicator.

[He can take that stir stick and shove it where the sun don't shine. Yuri's crossing territory here, and Will won't have it. He will give him the house number, sure. It's the house with a talking dog, it makes sense Will would have found a friend there. But getting April's name specifically?

He's got a better chance of passing a camel through the eye of a needle.]

[Yuri liked animals. He preferred cats to dogs, but canines themselves weren't without their own charms. That protectiveness, for one, which might have been an inconvenience to those people not the owner, was a actually a rather welcome reminder of whose turf he was presently on.

A forensic scientist, hm? Someone who knew the ins and outs of the law to a certain degree, who knew the courts...knew criminals. A fisherman. A good fisherman at that, experienced with baiting and luring, reeling in...getting his hands dirty. Someone who might know to what degree a drug might harm a kid like Jayden or, more specifically, how safe he would be if it were administered correctly. Freddie Lounds wouldn't have known. Yuri wondered if she would have done it at all if not for some kind of suggestion. Jayden had said the woman had taken rather good care of him shortly after having incurred a head injury the night of the Hornets' attack. But Freddie Lounds was also impressionable.]

I'm glad. If I'd known you were going to be so thirsty, I'd have bought you a larger size. [He sipped his own drink casually, seemingly indifferent to Will's mood. As for the edginess about the other man? Yuri recalled that it wasn't uncommon. He'd been just as tense the day they'd gone fishing, after all. There was nothing suspicious about that, not by itself. But then again, was there really any reason for Will to be taking such offense? It wasn't as though Yuri had brought the police to the other man's doorstep. It wasn't as though he had any intention of things becoming physical between them, either. He stood in place on the other side of the counter where he intended to remain, his body language giving away nothing besides the fact that he was indeed rooted there for the moment, and would be until he decided it was time to leave. No amount of stabbing eyes or barbed words would chase him away. He'd endured worse in the judge's seat in Sternbild.] Anyway, Will, please don't think that these are questions I want to ask you. It's simply a matter that your name was mentioned in correlation to the incident and I've taken it upon myself to investigate the fact. If you truly weren't there and had no hand in what took place, there's no reason to take offense. You might say I'm doing you a favor by asking first instead of going to the authorities. Whoever is responsible for Jayden's condition that night could face rather severe criminal charges. And, as I like you...that isn't something I would wish upon you in the case of your innocence.

[Which was not entirely untrue. If Will's story checked out (and Yuri would be checking) and the man wasn't involved in any way, Yuri would be glad. Doubtful they could ever go back to quaint fishing friends, but it was better to have looked than to have turned a blind eye. Yuri had no regrets.]

If I could have the name and contact number of that friend, Will?

[Will doesn't look at the dog, which perhaps makes the fact of the matter that the dog is looking at Yuri, too, even more of a testament to, yes, whose turf he was on. Not that it was something many would see a reason to take pride in, but a quick look around would give away that Will kept it up in ways other than it being stocked. The place was dusted, swept, clean and neat and orderly as ever. With the addition of Abigail, it was easier to keep that up. The only place in the entire shop that could be termed unclean was the area filled with insects and only because of what it contained.

Will leans back as Yuri speaks, drinking in his every word and filing it away for later, tearing each one apart by jot and tittle and finding his in. His loophole. The loose part of the net that he can wriggle right through and leave the others caught to follow or die. It's not difficult to find. It's just difficult to go about it in a way that's not overly rude, even though everything that has happened so far has been very, very rude. Rude underneath a layer of civility, a person suit that dares to use his name like it once did after all these actually true accusations.

It's no fun when someone is so close to the target without having put in the same amount of effort as—wait, no, actually? This is probably better.]

You're not doing me any favors or doing any actual investigation. [Sponges generally absorb liquid until the point they bloat and leak; Will Graham can do the same, but he's perfectly capable of spitting some of that back when it comes sinking in like he's just an average sponge.] I'm not taking offense at the accusations, Yuri. I'm taking offense at the fact of the matter that you walk into my shop and throw them at me already convinced that you know the facts and there's not a damn thing I could say to change your mind. [Is there a fire under his ass? Seems to be. He pushes off that stool, gesticulating with a wave of his hand.] You walked in here judge jury and executioner, sentence in your hands with that tea and that coffee. No, you don't want to be here. I can tell. But you need to be here because—what are you looking for? Confession?

[It's good for the soul. Or so they say. Will Graham doesn't find it good for shit right now. His body language has had enough shit. He has had enough of this and it everything comes out of him with sustained eye contact and a quickness that doesn't really match up to the small, awkward position he was in earlier.

Sometimes people press buttons. Sometimes they click on a lighter and hover it over a powder keg that carries rabies and fleas. It was nice of him to bring coffee, though.]

Got a church three blocks from here where you can get that without having to like anyone. You wanna do me a favor? [That's not a friendly smile, and the way his voice lowers makes it seem like, perhaps, the temperature in the room has been lowered, too. Especially when he leans in to make his point extra icy and extra clear.] Go spew your condescending condemnations there. That's why they built it.

[So long and thanks for all the crabs. Hope you find Jesus.]

[Judge, jury, and executioner? Will had no idea.]

That's the thing. You shouldn't have to change my mind. If you're innocent, the facts will do any necessary defending for you. Of course, as you seem reluctant to relinquish those facts beyond mere blanket statements...

[Yuri shrugged his shoulders, and when Will leaned toward him, practically spitting with anger, smiled in response.]

In coming here, I had hoped you would cooperate with me. After all, I was under the impression that you cared about Jayden...but perhaps I was wrong?

[He turned then, drink in hand, and started for the door.]

I've said what I needed to. I'll be in touch. And since we appear to be dispensing advice...you might wish to visit that church yourself. With a temper like yours, Will...one would think you had demons that needed to be purged.

[No, Will didn't have any idea. He'd run around legal circles all his life, knew that being dirty and willing to play in the mud from time to time could help someone excel in their chosen field, no matter how much they didn't want that to be true. That after long enough exposure to how corrupted and disgusting it could be, one grew used to diving straight into the muck and the mire, one grew used to ignoring it, one grew to try calling it out and found themselves on the chopping block.

Taking risks, even if that resulted in built up grime underneath his fingernails he'd never get out no matter how many times he washed his hands? One could say that's part of why he excelled, excelled and went down in a blazing ball of bloody murder. Hopefully that's not how this ends (no more ears in his stomach, please and thanks), but it was time to ignore rolling up his sleeves and shove his hands right in the shit, wasn't it. Time to make sure that walking out the door is the least appealing option, and what better way than with "hey I'm an accused murderer look at me out and loose does it make your judge pants burns":]

When the Porter picked me up, I was wearing an orange jumpsuit. One of those jumpsuits. I'd covered it as much as I could with what I could take off the orderlies transporting me. Do you know how difficult it is to zip up a jacket after you broke your own thumb and had to use it in a physical fight? [Purged? This entire shop needed to be burned, from owner to MASTER BAITER bumper stickers. What a nightmare.] First thing Freddie Lounds does when she gets here? Say I've gone away and been acquitted of murdering four young women. Suppose that sounds more monstrous than adding the middle-aged male neurosurgeon found nearly decapitated at the jaw.

[Did someone say temper? Maybe that sounds like a temper tantrum (and he's even told it in a way that spins it exactly like that, because Frederick Chilton being his caretaker was about as desirable as eating bars of used soap at a local gym), but the way he says it is incredibly calm. If Yuri can put that to the situation, well.

He's a little dangerous, damn right. A little dangerous and a little beyond well done with Freddie Lounds. He has had it to the gills with her, his voice says. Gills that can no longer separate what he needs to breathe, lets in sludge and slime in its place. But it's calmer than anything else, an accepted sort of rage that is on a constant simmer. Easier to talk about, one hand resting on the counter and the other taking that stupid hat off his head and tossing it to the side.]

You want me to cooperate? Don't come in here already having thrown me into a cage. That's what I go home to, if I ever go home. The last way you will find me anywhere near cooperative is by trapping me and trapping me with her.

[Isn't that sort of a general rule of life? Don't throw someone in a cage and poke them, they might get snappy? Might lash out? Might relinquish a lot of blankets and throw some shade in the process; why would Will lie about something as relatively minor as taking part in ~drugging~ a teenager if he's willing to share this?

(Because he's innocent of this, duh.)

((Sort of.))

(((Physically...?)))]

[...just when Yuri had thought the bull's-eye Will was sporting couldn't get any bigger.]

Cage?

[He paused in the middle of the shop, turned, and faced the other man as that hat was thrown. Did you accomplish with that what you'd hoped to, Will?]

If I was throwing you into a cage, Will, I wouldn't be here in the first place. [He wouldn't have come to you first at all.] I would have let the authorities come in my stead, although I doubt your particular brand of defense would impress them any more than it has me. Speaking of which...am I to believe that a man capable of breaking his own thumb to get out of a bad situation wouldn't be capable of working with someone of Ms. Lounds' detestable reputation?

[He shook his head. This was too much.]

In any case, I've given you a choice. There is no need for me to lump you in with that woman if you tell me what I want to know and I can confirm you were where you say you were, when you said you were there. It's that simple.

[The bull's-eye is people.

The design worked well enough, yes. He's pleased with it. He's pleased with Yuri's words, even, though that doesn't show. The question is legitimately one he expected, what draws his other hand down to the counter, fingers casual against it instead of tense. This is more workable. It's muddled and filthy, yes, but that's easy work to someone who alternates between the brutalized dead and the malfunctioning, grease-covered boat motors.

His bottom lip gets worried between his teeth a second. There is one road left untraveled he can pull out, can throw Jayden under the bus and slap Yuri in the face with what he must know every second of every day. But that's low, too low at the moment, and Will ends up knocking on the counter, disgruntled, thoughtful, puzzled. Trying to work something out.

He is not going near the mention of choice with a thousand foot pole. That is a can of worms and all of them are primed and ready to tear flesh and muscle and dent bone. No no, it's better to ignore that part.]

I was in House Six here, but. Did you think to have him urinate when he told you? To follow through with collecting scientific evidence, facts, that there was actually a drug involved?

[Or were you too angry?

Will got away without having to do a stool sample, go team not taking a single shit day. For how bizarre the question may sound, he asks it sincerely. If Yuri is going to come at him talking about how he could cage him and Will's going to dance around the Russians Drawn Into Questioning thing, what else is Will to do but start interpreting the evidence?

Or, more accurately, interpreting what evidence there actually is or is not.

"Would you think to have someone you care for give a urine sample?" Yuri could, of course, ask him. But as he's just stated: Will Graham is capable of breaking his own thumb to get out of a bad situation and comfortable working with someone who has a reputation as detestable as Freddie Lounds.

He might think about that, yes.]

[He'd been far too angry at the time to consider asking Jayden to urinate, and it was mildly irritating now to have the oversight thrown in his face. Still more irritating was the recollection that Jayden was absolutely reluctant to press any kind of charges against Will and Freddie, which meant that even if Yuri had remembered to ask for samples that could have been screened, it wouldn't have done any good.

Dammit. Dammit!

Was this really going to get swept under the rug so easily?]

I will be honest and say that, at the time, it hadn't occurred to me to ask him to do something like that, though I hardly see how it would have helped. [He still should have at least thought about it, of course. It was truly rankling that he hadn't, that Will Graham had.] Too much time passed between the time of the incident and the time Jayden came to me and told me about it. More than a week, in fact. It isn't very likely any toxicology report would have found anything.

[Which is also annoying. Why had Jayden waited so long to come to him with the information? Was he deliberately trying to sabotage himself?]

House six...and of its residents, who can confirm that? Or will you have me ask them all?

[Will is a pretty great fisherman, truth be told, regardless of what or who he has tugging on the other end of his line (as long as poetry is not involved, at least). Eventually, once he can get the turbulence to settle, he can find a path that, if the other won't swim how he wants it to, he can at least trick it into that. Trick dogs into his car, trick crabs into a trap, make his own cage that, hopefully, narrows down to himself and whatever he's up against. Himself and the FBI in the case of serial killers, sure, but he doesn't have that back up here to rely on. It's all one-on-one, and his people have absolutely no problem pushing each other in front of danger if it means saving their own skin.

Will's not completely different.

He tilts his head, one eyebrow lifting as he digests the word honest. Yuri's been honest (or tried to be, at least) this entire time, and Will is continually shifting in place and trying to get him to wade through a different current. The current now being one of stark realization that he has failed, in some way, to protect someone he cares about and has to say it out loud is one that Will's very, very familiar with.

The "I fucked up and I can't say otherwise" current is one he wades into, dreaming and awake.

It's less of a look at your oops and haha I caught you than it could be, were it anyone else. While he is capable of playing the same games as the rest of the Baltimore crew on his own rabid frothing level, he also has that pesky empathy that proves difficult to turn off once it's kicked in.]

Anyone in that house could confirm it. We spent the night. [The elbow nearest Gunther nudges out, indicating the we involved. But Will is willing to throw a bone, riding on the prayer that Freddie used either just what he said or something essentially the same. A generic, less potent sort would be preferable. It was the third, today is the fifteenth. Twelve days. Would Yuri go straight to Jayden and take a hair? Cut his nails? It's possible that might still be there, if she dumped an entire box into whatever drink. But it's just as likely that nothing of note will turn up. He does sports, doesn't he? Surely he's taken a pill or two for pain related to practice?] I will be honest and say that, having worked with toxicology reports on my own, after a week, it would have likely passed from urine. However. [One set of fingers splay out—hear me out, this is helpful. I'm not bragging, I'm sharing. Let me share.] If you are sincere in your belief that he has, actually, been drugged, you still have options within this current time frame. [Haha. Current.] A strand of hair or some nail clippings would hold the evidence of drugs far longer than urine or an oral sample.

[And then he shrugs, just enough to show that he's not overly bothered by what comes out of his mouth next.]

Of course, any test of Jayden would turn up marijuana. If you want to go through with this and you are worried about that result coming back and making trouble for him, there are options for getting a toxicologist to ignore it and focus on anything else they might find. [And one of them is standing right in front of Yuri, isn't that darling.] So there is that.

[There is that indeed, coupled with the thin grim line that Will's lips tend to stay in, looking from Yuri to his tea down to the counter and "walking" his fingers over to that enormous book of mathematical suffering.

This sort of talk, drugs and results and tests, is commonplace to him. The accusations? He's not a fan in any way shape or form. But when it gets away from him and goes to a more general route, a route that involves him in the sense that involves his knowledge that plenty others have access to?

Well, damn, it does seem like just another day on his end.]

[It was important to remember that for however helpful Will was being now, minutes earlier he had been anything but. The man Yuri was speaking to had confessed to being able to break his own thumb because it had suited him. For all Yuri knew, Will was handing him information now for the same reason. The question was, what could Will possibly hope to gain from it? A shred of trust restored, perhaps? Was he hoping that Yuri wouldn't take him up on the suggestion to collect other samples from Jayden because he'd finally demonstrated some willingness to be helpful? Or was it because of the trouble it might spell for Jayden himself in the end?

And it would spell trouble, Yuri realized. Jayden was a teenager, and a reckless one at that. He might have taken care not to let on around Yuri that he took part in recreational drug use, but that didn't mean the judge was at all surprised to hear it was probably so.

For crying out loud...

It was beginning to feel rather like his back was against the wall now.]

I'll be sure to ask them.

[For a few moments, that was all Yuri said. Even as he took himself back to the counter, leaned his frame against it and stared down at the tea in his hands, he was quiet and contemplative.

He had options? Surely Will didn't mean himself. What kind of fool did he take Yuri for, exactly? The last thing the judge was prepared to do was bring sensitive sample matter to someone he suspected had had a hand in the need for such a thing to be analyzed in the first place. But who else did he know with the ability to provide the insights Will could?

No, more importantly, why was he even listening to suggestions from someone he had already decided couldn't be trusted? Particularly when those suggestions had legal consequences.]

Honestly... [There was that word again.] I'm not certain Jayden would forgive me if I took this that far without his knowing. [And it would inevitably get back to the teen, of that Yuri was certain.] There is also the question of legality. Without his consent, any holding of bodily fluids for the purpose of testing, or any testing itself, could be seen as a form of breaking the law.

[He set his cup down and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. A headache was coming on...the sort that caring about others always tended to give birth to. What a nuisance.]

[Will nodded at Yuri's plan to be sure to ask, not surprised by it but wondering how it would go down. Who might be at the house and what they would say. Will had become such a fixture by this point that even if whoever answered the door hadn't seen him that day, they could shrug and say it was probable. Likely, even. He was there enough, stuffing fish in the freezer. Yuri finding Ace would probably be the best, since...well, a talking dog, yes, of course Will Graham would be spending time there. He was a talking dog. A talking dog who could destroy a Goddamn house and flip a car without problem, so if anything got out of hand (or paw), Ace was pretty much the guard dog that all guard dogs should hold in hero status.

So the idea of Yuri going to confirm his whereabouts? Was one that Will seemed perfectly accepting of, didn't have him on edge. Didn't need to. Relaxed, flipping through that book and pulling the pencil out from where it was, even. Perhaps he'd been offended, aggressive, but when he was being accused by someone who made it evident he already had come to a conclusion and Will was guilty, was that so difficult to understand? Now that the storm had passed, he was calm. Certain, almost.

Either innocent or someone who had this shit on lock. At least, for the moment.

He doesn't look up until that cup hits the counter, eyes focused on Yuri's hand as opposed to anything else. He hears him, yes, but he doesn't need to stare at his mouth to make that much obvious, and mouths are close to eyes and eye contact is something he does a good job of avoiding. Yuri's distracted him from his book, that's all he should need to know Will is tuned in. Very tuned in. To his hands.

He follows the movement of the one to Yuri's nose and he puts that together easily enough. Will knows headaches like he knows fishing, by this point. Headaches that stem from all sorts of them and how to fight to them.

There's a pause before moves just enough to pull open a drawer underneath the counter, shuffling the contents around. It sounds like the normal, pencils and pens and paper and...something that rattles? Rattles in a tiny bottle. Something like—

—a bottle of extra strength ibuprofen, put on the counter right by Yuri's cup of tea without Will saying a word. Not a single word or sigh or looking up like he has any shame or finds this funny, just puts it out there and goes back to his bookkeeping.

He's a helper.]

[Could Will possibly be more insufferable if he tried?

The answer was probably yes. Yuri sighed.]

Ah...thank you. [Lowering his hand, the judge slid the bottle back toward Will.] But no thank you.

[Harmless as the ibuprofen might have been, the irony of taking any offered by Will at this particular time might have just killed Yuri on the spot. He wasn't about to make things that convenient for the other man.]

Do you have children, Will?

[The answer was yes, yes he could. With everyone he knew, for better or worse.

It's nice that Yuri has manners, less nice when they're followed by that question. But Will's giving off a pretty good air of ready to get back to his bookkeeping, and the question comes right as he lifted up several pages, intent on looking through them for the one he needed.

He has a more tangible reason to be distracted this time around and he is taking full advantage of it. When Yuri asks, he scratches his neck with a pencil like a true heathen.]

No. [Said so casually it might as well have been a "nope" as Will separate two pages stuck together, wondering if he'll have to go the distance and his lick his thumb for full gross effect.] Have some numbers to run, though.

[Which is nicer than saying "get the hell out," at least.]

Hm.

[That explained a little.

Of course, Yuri had no children of his own, either. He'd told Jayden there were reasons for that when the teenager had asked, had said that his lifestyle hadn't been suitable for raising a family, but the truth was...he wasn't suitable. But that didn't mean he didn't know what it took to be a responsible parental figure. It didn't mean he didn't know what lines were appropriate to walk or cross.

That was, however, a discussion best left to another time. Will wanted to return to his books (or was using it as an excuse), and Yuri wanted to return to his apartment.]

I'll leave you to it, then.

[Without so much as another word, Yuri turned from the counter and, taking his tea with him, left the shop. All that was left now was to prepare for how he was going to confront Freddie Lounds.]

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