infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

[He's bad with people, but he's not that bad.

Have a little faith.]

That sounds like nothing I know. Human territory is generally where we want to plant a house and a road and a Starbucks. Too hot or too cold, we leave it alone. Everywhere else, it seems to be the thought that it's really our oyster.

[Wait.]

Oyster meaning it's an opportunity we can take if we want, and nothing can stop us. You stay in Heropa, you have an ocean on one side and the Gulf on the other. Probably wise to learn to swim.

Edited 2014-06-05 04:56 (UTC)

[ Faith is in short supply. Come back later; she might scrape something up off the bottom of the barrel by then. ]

I've moved, actually. Too hot. But I've been learning to swim with a [ she pauses in typing. how to label Reiner? what's the most acceptable way? ] former comrade from home.

It's been an experience. There are community centers that offer lessons, but with the commute back and forth from Heropa, things haven't lined up well for official training.

[Hopefully it's better than that tilapia bullshit.]

Official training in swimming? [Do people still do that? Where he's from, they may as well just toss toddlers in the water. Go, be free. Like Spartan boys, really, though people will not let them die. That's not on the menu. So maybe not exactly like Spartan boys.] You don't need training unless you want to be a lifeguard. You can learn to swim without lessons. I mean, it's great to have them! But unless you want to learn fifteen different strokes and how to save people from drowning, that's a little overboard.

[Nautical terms everywhere.]

Where'd you move to?

[ Can't be worse. It's only one barrel. ]

Anything more than the doggy-paddle might be appreciated. It works... it's loud.

Ah, I moved to Nonah. The residences are outside of the city, backing to a forest. It's quiet.

[ Comparatively. It gives her someplace to pull out her gear, short test runs while she waits on hearing back on getting the right kind of compression canisters installed. Or gets the whole guardian thing finalized... and gets to work with the company in Nonah she's been conversing with.

That Nonah's a little amusing with how she was involved in the not so heroic side of the monorail crash... well, she doesn't talk about that. Or the fireworks. ]

[How big is the barrel? A barrel could hold sixty fish and still be brimming with tilapia bullshit. Need to get a bigger barrel.]

Doggy-paddling's great when you need it, but it'll wear you fast. Learning a basic stroke is pretty much all you need. Well, if you're going swimming in an ocean there's more information you'll need, but for lakes and pools you'd be fine with just a regular stroke.

[No one gives a shit, Will. No one.]

The place with the ceremony a while back? The one where you saw the killer whale? Did you visit the other cities and pick Nonah or did you just pick that one because people you knew were there, too?

[Jesus, Will really wants to move to De Chima. Apparently no one's been, or hasn't mentioned it. He can't just get up and move without knowing anything—

—actually, wow, he can. He's an adult. He could do that, no problem.

He also has no idea about the monorail crash or fireworks or a lack of heroics. Shockingly, he does not give a single shit about it. Some law enforcement worker, this guy.]

[ What about those barrels filled with monkeys? The cheap, plastic kind, where the tails and arms all hook together. Top quality faith out of something like that, make no mistake. ]

What makes up the difference between the two?

I don't know anyone in Nonah. I don't really like the city, either.

[ Annie. Annie, why the hell did you move there? ]

But out of the cities with military outposts nearby, it was the only one close to the woods. I looked.

[ The tiniest, smallest sliver of familiarity. These woods are too small, the trees too stunted, humanity's presence smeared all over everything in a very strange, semi-cultivated manner. At least close to where people lived. Further out, it's a little different.

Will, you are exactly what everyone could hope for in a law enforcement officer. Sort of. Depending on who "everyone" might be. Then again, Annie's not much better. There's too much in the world if one wants to blanketly care about things not directly related to them. Screw that. ]

[But when the monkeys run out, so does the faith, and Buzz Lightyear stays trapped with the toy-destroying neighbor next door. That barrel is too small.]

Doggy-paddling can take a lot of energy out of you. Does still serve a purpose. I know the military teaches it in case they ever need to be silent because your arms or legs don't go in and out of the water. But you can't get as far doggy-paddling as you can with other strokes. It's fun, but you won't be able to get back to shore easily with it. That makes sense. You live with housemates though, right? You're not in Nonah on your own? Former comrade's there?

[Woods are great.

When they don't have...certain...creatures in them.

He's the guy that make the criminals happy or something, Edgeworth said it himself.]

[ Ah, but that's the perfect size for her. Trapped with the toy-destroying neighbor next door and everything, without a Woody on reserve. ]

I'm not sure if I'd call it fun, but it's still hard to accept all this water as something that isn't just for drinking and chartered boat travel by the merchants and government. You wouldn't find the same freedom of use back home. Contamination is too likely, and too costly.

I live with someone I knew from home. We both trained in the same unit, up until graduation.

[ Like Titans? Or things with antlers?

Edgeworth. The man who's more notable to Annie for offering to send her handkerchiefs than his lawyering career - but that's another position of authority and corruption, the trial system within the military. Court Martialing. It was going to kill Eren, and it will be her end, eventually. Presuming humanity survives, and human memory serves longer than human forgiveness can extend. ]

[Hey now, everyone needs a friend. Or a dog. A dog is just fine, too. Friends or dogs, whatever, someone to save them from Sid.]

Does sound like it'd be difficult to get used to. That's how it is, though. It's a whole world of water. Most of the Earth I know is water. Seems that's the same way here. There have been oil spills, but they work to keep those from happening and get them back under control when they do happen. That's nice, isn't it? To be with someone you know even in this new place.

[Things with antlers. Feathered stags and weird antlered dudes, all of it. If it has antlers, it can fuck off.

That last bit makes him cringe, because who he's stuck with? The idea of having to live with...no. No thank you.

Edgeworth never offered to send Will handkerchiefs...then again, Will never offered him a glass bottom boat ride.]

[ Even when you deserve Sid? ]

I wonder how much of the world I know is water. At least someone from home thinks it may be Earth, too... the histories don't match, but who knows. I don't.

It's familiar.

[ She doesn't want to say anything more about Reiner. What can she say? it is familiar. He's familiar. He's also an element of the unknown, and while they're allied, they aren't perfect allies. There's no such thing, and no such absolute confidence.

But he is familiar, and the struggles they both have are ones they can relate back to each other. That matters.

Annie does not understand all these strangers offering her things without strings that tie her down to unpleasant things. What an inversion of expectation. One day, the other shoe is going to drop. She knows it. (Suspects it; expects it.) ]

[No one deserves Sid. Not even Hannibal deserves Sid (not that Will currently thinks much bad about Hannibal, but when he does). No one deserves that shit.]

My Earth is something like 70% water. Mostly oceans. Neat, because that's near the same amount as you'll find in the human body. Everything comes back to water. People I know from my world here are familiar, too.

[That is like the most Captain Obvious statement ever on a surface level. But...really, it's about all he can say on them that doesn't veer into a completely negative "THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS DON'T TALK TO THEM ANNIE DON'T DO IT" territory.

The other shoe of Will's that would drop would be on the floor for a dog to ravage. Be afraid.]

[ Then pray she never wakes. And pray both Levi and Hange never see a reason to try and get information out of Annie, if it's ever believed that what is learned here can be carried back home. ]

70% of the body? I hadn't realized it was that much.

Yet you're not living with them, are you?

[ Chilton's easy to want to avoid. Gideon is... A different sort of wary puzzle.

That other shoe, on the other hand, is going to be one hell of a slimy, well-loved find. Frightening indeed. ]

[Contacts her one day, drops the beat: I know none of us can possibly be okay, being where we are. But, Annie, are you okay?]

Nearly. Around 70%, depending. Age plays a factor in it, just like nourishment and hydration. It can fluctuate, it's not completely consistent, but the human body has a lot of water in it. No. I'm still where I was put when I got here. There's no one here I know that I'd want to live with. The strangers I've been placed with aren't so bad. No one really seems to mind Gunther, either, so that's a bonus.

[Just imagining Chilton or Gideon dealing with his dog. Just imagining Chilton upset because all his suits are fur-covered monstrosities. Just imagining Chilton and Gideon living in the same area is a Goddamn nightmare almost on par with antlered Titans running around the woods outside his house. No.

Probably got second-hand shoelaces, too. Possibly in a tacky color. Horror.]

[ No. A thousand times no. But thanks for asking. ]

Who's Gunther?

[ There's both amusement and horror in those imaginings. The two can too often end up intertwined to some extent.

Though not as horrifying as the thought of that innocuous, well-worn shoe. ]

[Annie is not okay.

It's a few minutes before the camera clicks on, and Will's not exactly the focus of it. A mustached dog lays sprawled out on the floor, ear flopped over and tongue hanging out for maximum "he's really asleep" effect. There's a moment where it's just the snoozing dog before Will's hand appears and he snaps his fingers right into that ear. Gunther responds instantly, though groggy, a mess of paws scratching on the floor and that mustache quivering as he looks all over the place to figure out why the hell he's suddenly been woken up.

When he sees nothing but Will (if she listens, there's laughter to be heard, but it's very quiet), he makes a face that all but comes with subtitles of "how dare you" or "I can't believe you" or "I'm sick of this shit" before he verbalizes that with a grunt. To drive his point home, he sneezes, which has Will's laughter cut off with a groan. Still amused, but ugh. Snotty pants.]

This is Gunther.

[Who is now ignoring Will and going back to sleep.]

[ She's surprised when she hears her device, looking over and seeing an image broadcast. Will hasn't been one for anything other than text with her, and her expectations tended to stay along those lines. That's surprising enough, but past that, the image of the animal on screen has her lifting her eyebrows up in surprise.

She's never seen anything like Gunther. Dogs, yes, in the sense that such animals were used in hunting, but she lacks experience with them, and they didn't look like the kind of dog she sees now, snapping awake, then making faces at having been roused for nothing more than the entertainment of their caretaker and someone who hadn't known Gunther was anything other than a name until a minute ago.

It's in this process that Annie activates her own video feed, half a face, a blue eye, blonde hair and an expanse of uncluttered wall with a doorframe partly in frame at her back. She's sitting sideways, looking at the camera now, before looking toward the door.

Her voice is muffled by direction. She's trying to decide if Reiner is around. ]

That's a dog, right?

[ She doesn't sound entirely sure. She's seem more of them in the city, all sorts, but Gunther's still different, and she's not sure the small ones aren't domesticated foxes or overgrown rats. People make everything pets around here. It could be true. ]

[Doesn't know seals, but that's not as difficult to believe. They're not as common as dogs by any stretch of the imagination (trying to imagine it is silly, but Will had thought of it after that particular conversation. He flips it so it shows him instead, unshaven guy with shaggy, curly hair that definitely needs a cut, wearing his usual plaid shirt. Will Graham in his natural habitat, truth be told. The smile is less of an attempt and more...sincere. Natural. Almost normal.]

Yeah, he's a dog. German wirehaired pointer, to be exact. Hunting dog, requires plenty of exercise...stays in the shop with me during the day. He's still a puppy, even with as big as he is. Training him is a process but. Making progress pretty well.

[Even if he can't see her fully, it's good to see her at all. Text is one thing, but if whoever it is never shows themselves it feels like a treat when they finally do.

For the most part.]

[ A hunting dog... she shifts, turning her face toward the camera, at all the awkwardness of an angle that lets her peer into it and look at Will. Her hair's pulled back into a messy bun, bangs free and partly obscuring her eyes, until she brushes them back toward one ear. Nothing remarkable in what she's wearing. Kids wear hoodies all over, and hers is no more descript than most. Particularly lacking any sort of logo or symbol to mark it as making any particular statement.

Which could have been a statement, but was more of a statement on her irritation with pointlessly decorated outerwear. ]

The hunting dogs I've seen didn't look anything like him. He's only a puppy? How many months old?

[ ... Okay. She's genuinely interested in the dog. This isn't as far out there as the other animals that keep pulling at her attention. Dogs have a function, albeit one divorced from her, and it makes her interested hearing about something more tangibly relatable for once. ]

You're training him to hunt?

[ Fisherman, houndsman, investigates the dead... sort of, man. Will wears a lot of hats on that messy mop of hair. ]

[Dogs. Dogs and fishing, he can talk about those easily. There's none of that hostility in him. In fact, he seems rather relaxed, though one shoulder stays at a rather tense angle.]

I don't know, exactly. He was in a shelter. Over a year, at least. But considering the lifespan of a dog, he's. Still something of a puppy. Didn't have good training, have to keep that in mind.

[But the question about Gunther hunting makes him smile. Somewhat. It's his version of a smile.]

No, no. No. He's a water fowl sort of dog. Birds. One of my housemates keeps birds so...keeping that out of training so they're not targets. Cohabitation is possible if influence is exercised.

[Gunther isn't aware of it. Will wasn't aware of it. Funny how things work out.

Fisherman, houndsman, instigates the dead...sort of. He's also got a damn good knowledge of insects; he wrote the standard on how to tell time of death by their activity and what stage of life they were in. That head is a mess under the mop of hair that is also a mess. At least the outside reflects the inside?]

You could see him in person, if you want.

[ She notices his shoulder, remembers words circling back around a aspect of a job she finds ridiculous. Not sure if he can handle the stretching in yoga. Annie studies the small image of a man much larger than this phone through it's limited frame. She doesn't like this. Doesn't like the illusion of intimacy, the voyeurism video invites. Doesn't like losing another layer of protection against the shifting, changing factors of this world she's struggling to stay afloat in.

But she understands old injuries, even if none of her own stay. She understands bad shoulders, even if hers had been giant at the time, and healed as they must. Understands blindness, and how to fight on, regardless. Feels pretty blind now.

There's the dog. There's an offer. It's simpler than most the rest of things she's had arranged for herself. For once, she won't even need to eat anything. (Slurpees, ice cream, whatever the next thing is that someone decides she's as good as dead if she's never given it a try, without knowing that's the case no matter what she touches. As good as dead. As bad as alive.) ]

They shelter strays?

[ Animals, not even people? No, here, they probably do both. Here, they probably don't shove the refugees of lost lands into emptied warehouses, rationing out their bread day by day. Here they aren't just leaving the weak to die in the streets or fields. Or do they? She has a hard time imaging it's so clean as all that. She's seen the dirty alleys, the homeless faces, the thin sided cats and the rats they chased.

Yet this country shelters strays. If they're lucky. ]

"Cohabitation is possible if influence is exercised."

[ No comment. She finds herself almost smiling, a ridiculous urge - it's too true. Cohabitation is possible if influence is exercised. Influence and control. ]

I'd like that, I think.

[ What is fun? What's there to like? A funny furred animal that smells and moves and acts in unfamiliar ways; a man she knows better through his offers and words on this removed web of communications, crossed and sticky as any well-spun spider's, than in person; an honest sense of curiosity it takes her a moment to place. ]

If it's not an imposition.

[ One requirement. Have fun. Harder to do than it looks, like the gear she and the rest of those from her world strap themselves into to fight the impossible. People. It's always people fighting people. People devouring each other whole.

Even here, just much more politely. Only not now. She looks through the lens of the camera, head canting to the side, quiet, waiting. Not now. She hopes she's right about that. ]

[Stabbed so badly he had to change his stance to shoot a gun, stiff when the weather was bad or even when it wasn't, stiff for no reason other than an old, old, old injury. It's all he has right now; later, in the future, there will be another shoulder wound. Further down that road, something much worse, but possibly less sinister than Will being shot by one of the few people he thought he could trust, Jack being guided to do it by the only person Will trusted currently.

He doesn't know what he's saying, exactly, with the bit about influence—no, no, he does. He doesn't know how it relates to him so much he shouldn't word it like that, doesn't know how much it could sound like someone else that he should avoid sounding like but can't understand why. Dogs must be trained, broken, that's a fact. It is not something enjoyable on Will's end, so he tries to make it as quick and painless as possible. He's gotten good at it. It's somewhat like setting a broken bone: there's damage, but a few moments of severe pain to help put it back together and heal, and it's fine. Only, Will doesn't do it in a way that the dog remembers something painful forever, doesn't stare at him and recall being stuck in a crate to learn not to run away because it's for the dog's own good not to get hit by a car or get lost or get attacked by one of the coyotes near his property. Eventually, they understand, they bond, they're loyal.

Will Graham has never taken pleasure in causing mental distress in a dog for its own good, doesn't like the process but recognizes it has to be done. He hasn't yet realized that the last few months of his life were something similar, though without what was good for him in mind. If he knew, if he had been told and given time to recognize it—his phrasing would have been

different.

He doesn't want to force her; she's not a stray, he doesn't think she needs to be "broken" into fun. Fun's something he finds hard to come by, but something that's informative about life can be enjoyable. Enjoy it, perhaps, would have been a better thing to tell her.]

Yeah. Lucky ones. The, ah, not so lucky ones don't end up in shelters. Or, they do, but...don't get out. [He's used to picking his dogs up off the side of the road or finding them curled in his bushes, cold and thin and sickly and starving. Abandoned. He doesn't have the luxury to go back to that just yet. It's a sad fact that he recognizes for what it is, and his smile reflects as much.] He's learning that the birds aren't to be messed with the same as I'm learning that living with other people isn't. Awful.

[It is.

God, but it is.]

And it's not an imposition at all, Annie. You can stop by whenever you want. Open door policy.

[A few minutes' warning would be nice, if he was in his room. The sound of him hopping around because he was laying around in boxers and that's not how he wants to be seen isn't a flattering one.

There's no desire to devour here, not person or dog or beast of any kind. There's a desire to share. A well of caring, one might say, that comes and goes in waves and relates only to a few while letting others dry up and die of thirst.

Is it better to be eaten or pass away slowly and painfully? Will should regret not saying certain things. He doesn't. Not yet, not now, perhaps not ever.

But he seems kind enough. Just a shaggy guy who likes dogs and fishing and has a heavy job. A well of sea life and fur and bodies. He's just never mentioned the ones that float or drown because of him.]

[ The hand that guides without the guided seeing how it ends can be a warm, deft handling, cold as the results are when written on paper. She's not the child she'd been, pushed by her father to keep going, don't stop, no breaks, we're not done yet. We're not satisfied. She'd resented it, resented it and loved it, when she was so firmly caught between his sights that she was his sole attention focus. The voice and hands and face that demanded more from her than anyone else, that expected she'd succeed, that would accept no less.

They'd been striving toward his ideals back then. There'd been a motivating reason for him, and she'd stood there, seen it as nothing so grand, but not refusing his entreaties to give more and more, up to the day he'd held her shoulders and said he couldn't ask her for an apology. They'd run out of time for that, and the ideals that'd driven him to teach her, the things he'd wanted so badly in the end, weren't the ones he asked for anymore.

Survive. Come back to me. Your father is always on your side.

One person in a world she's been set up to oppose, from inside and outside of the Walls. Her heart and soul rebels at the thought, connects despite knowing she can't afford it, laughs when the people she respects turn toward her with wide, frightened, angry eyes, and ask her why they're still alive.

We're here because of what you've done. Annie's stopped asking herself why she didn't do what was necessary for her cause. Whatever her hopes had been, whatever sentimentality had urged her to preserve instead of destroy, they had undone her in the end. The lives she'd found so important there are coming undone at the edges here, and that's almost more cruel, watching someone who has mattered turn into a caricature of who they'd once been.

Like she has anything to say about it. Like someone raised to lies and betrayal has anything she can say in the face of an honest person broken down by the world. Welcome to the scum of humanity.

Have fun. ]

They go in to die.

[ It's a flat, suggestive statement. Tell me different. Not accusing, but not shying away from what it means. Someone has to accept the risk of that collection. Taking in animals that aren't seen as fit to leave again in the end. One way tickets to the end. ]

Awful?

[ A little amusement that the camera probably doesn't show so clearly in her eyes and the set of her shoulders. ]

Such a strong word. Then again, I've been living in barracks of some kind the last three years.

[ What are people but that which you endure, even when they're your roommates who let you sleep through the morning when they can point out you should have been up when standing in the line up with the rest of your newest assigned group. (Thanks, Hitch.) ]

Thank you. I'll keep that in mind.

[ She's not one to barge in without reason. people hopping around, getting ready - sounds like another morning in the barracks, under a rush order to get into gear and out the door.

Sharing is caring. Caring is difficult. Sharing is difficult to accept. Feeding parched grounds produces mixed results, but it may be worth it. Something might hold. Grow, even, but that's not worth holding one's breath for.

Kindness is a double edged blade. It cuts no matter how its used. She'll just hope to heal fast enough that it won't matter. ]

[Will's father taught him things that would last him for a lifetime: how to fish, how to fix boats, how to be frugal, humble, enjoy the simple things in life, to accept that sometimes people just leave for reasons he may never know, that pressing them or hunting them down when they don't want to be found isn't the way to go about it, that he has to let go of things sometimes, that he can't catch people the way he can catch fish—his mother, specifically. Surrounded by the FBI's database where all he'd have to do is type in a few letters, a few area codes, search a bit, sniff her out, and he could find her. Find where she went, what had happened, find out if she was dead or alive. If she was married and had children that she loved. If she had moved onto something better than a gruff man who seemed to love her and a son that thought he remembered a woman being in their little house but that couldn't have been right.

A child as young as him could never remember that. Not the sound of her voice, the length and color of her hair, not warmth he felt when he sprawled out against her, not the smell of her perfume or anything else. It was all fake, shoved into his "memories" by an imagination that was too expansive for anyone sane to be comfortable with. He still dreamed of those fake memories while being unable to remember the one he needed more than air or food or drink.

Wide, frightened, angry eyes—was that the last look Abigail had given him? Oh, she'd been scared (had he seemed that sick?) and angry, shocked, but when she'd last seen him, had she been disgusted more than anything else?

Disgust, at least, was something that Will would be used to seeing on people's faces. But from Abigail Hobbs?

Failure after failure. One person in the world he'd been set up to save, to help, and he couldn't. Just one person, and he'd thrown it all away. Or, more accurately, someone threw her away for him.]

Not exactly. [He scratches his head; how to explain this?] There is a. Method. Known as euthanasia. Mostly used for older or injured animals that won't have a better life no matter what. It eases the pain and they pass into...it's very calm and quiet. Usually. A way to let them go without them suffering any longer. Generally a kind way to help and relieve.

[But he's seen things. Places that don't do it properly, places that get shut down and have skeletons other than an employee who steals from the kitty (hah) or something humans do to humans that is to be expected. He's not going to mention it, but the way he looks off at what must be his own dog screams he knows worse can happen.]

I lived alone back where I'm from. [Bullshit. He realizes it and sighs. What a Goddamn loser Will is.] Have a house, some land, dogs. Seven dogs. [One day, he'll have fourteen. Seven brides for seven bond brothers, such happiness.] So. Having other people nearby is very strange for me.

[That's one word for it. He avoids the hell out of them if he can. He doesn't need to live in a house where he picks up on everyone's issues and feelings and says something they don't want to hear about themselves by accident.

Nobody likes that guy.

Which means nobody likes Will, because he's the only one who can do what he does like he does it. Caring is difficult? He likes to think that one applies to him, shaggy, dirty, ugly mess of a man that he is.

He doesn't address the thank you. He doesn't need to keep mentioning it. She'll come in her own time or she won't; he can't name a lure after Annie and fish with it. She's not Abigail Hobbs and she's not a stray. He won't treat her like either.]

[ Failures are the standard too many people manage to meet, with consequences all over the board. Are hers better for having come before the fall? Or worse, to have been unearthed and made to realize the extent of her unsuitability for the tasks assigned to her by the ideas and ideals her own father stopped believing in?

In the end, it doesn't matter. She'd been free for such a short time, away from the lies, and it'd been wonderful. Scary, exhilarating, and short lived. Encasing herself in crystal had been a last means of preserving what she was for the sake of the man who had sent her there.

Promise me you'll come home.

Just as long as she wasn't caught, sheltered, and euthanized.

Used for older or injured animals that won't have a better life no matter what. ]

Do they euthanize people, too?

[ She doesn't ask with any ill intent. She's curious. Are people afforded the same courtesy? Are they allowed a way out? Not everyone fights, clawing and fighting for their every second of life. Surely some kindness like this is visited on those who ask or merit its release.

Or else it's kind words for a modern way of throwing kittens in sacks and tossing them into the river, weighted down in rocks. ]

Seven dogs? [ Another pause, with that blink of surprise. Seven means expensive. It's all her mind can see, at first.He likes his solitude. She can understand, if she's not exactly the same way. She's glad when solitude can mean not holding up a front, but the isolation from others wears down at Annie's heart. She craves connection. She knows she's not allowed to have them, but it doesn't stop a traitorous part of her from feeling that desire, that need. The itch she shouldn't scratch.

Caring is difficult. Caring for anyone, in any way, compromises solidarity toward a cause. Is it worth it? ]

[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.]

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wow excuse you what a glorious tag you gave me

um no i think excuse you for all this loveliness woah

NO U

U 1ST

so goddamn beautiful i had to ignore this 4 a week 2 live up 2 it