[Looks at this oddly painted picture and decides it's better the way kids do it: a pig is a few circles with stick legs and a curly tail. Crude and not too detailed, but it's clear to everyone who sees it that's what it is. It takes a certain sort of asshole to not look a child's drawing and immediately understand what it is when they manage to be so direct, no matter how crude. So laying it out without any fancy, spicy words to make sure her lack of understanding doesn't meant a lack of getting it leaves him with this:]
You are talking to a cannibal right now.
[Funny thing, this is easier in text. Not because "writing" it is easier than saying it, certainly not, but...there is a better chance that putting it in this way might have him heard. Completely. But then again, Mary has none of the experiences of those back in Baltimore to read that as "I attended a Lecter dinner party twice" so.]
[ What is there to do but laugh? It's a good thing it can't be heard, maybe, but that wouldn't stop her. It isn't exactly her usual sort of inappropriately timed laugh, either, since even Mary can be horrified by shit, all right? It's that of course it is laugh. Of course cannibalism. Isn't he a parole officer for a cannibal?
Really, she had pieced enough of this together by, as he said, everything she's seen and heard. That's not what she meant by not understanding. His crude little drawing approach is an unnecessary joke at this point, but that's also why she laughs. Horrified, but...more understanding. That much she can. In the wake of one of the most cringe-worthy aspects that make up a monster, she can laugh, and she can appreciate. Hearing (okay, seeing) it said so plainly does make it impossible to beat around the bush and entertain the chance that she could have been guessing wrong.
She can still cringe, though, even while recalling a constant theme in the Baltimore gang's interactions. Shared trauma through Hannibal Lecter. Trauma that causes all of them a visceral reaction worthy of a ballad. Are they all cannibals? Only some? Where is the line between Hannibal, Will, and the rest? Why is he the blood brother? ]
[There's a five minute delay in Will's response, which he might just blame on pretty much anything that doesn't equate to inner turmoil. Say he's in the middle of cooking (hah), or fixing something around the house, bathing the dogs or the raccoons, doing something for work...
He'd pussyfooted around it with Ken, if only because Ken was Ken. Ken consumed human flesh (or ghoul flesh) out of need, even if that need eventually became a need for power. Control. His biology was different, he had to. Will Graham, on the other hand, did not. And while Mary has seemed to be a logically-minded human being (bless her for dealing with the mess of Baltimore), cannibalism is taboo for plenty of reasons and comes with plenty of suspicions. How does one go from a diet that one knows consists of human flesh when it's not clearly a bird or fish (and even then, what's in the sauce?) and go to something vegetarian-ish without thinking about it?
How badly does it mess with a person's mind, and when do they start to, say, crave it?
Not that he thinks Mary would ever buy into such ideas, but...it's not something he can help but to think of in times like these. In times where he skewers a slice of tomato, or spinach, or anything else, and sees a bloody lump of meat that he knows isn't chicken, pig, or cow. Times where April eats tacos or take out and all he can see is her stuffing her face with ground long pig.]
[ Oooh, that's a thing. Certainly a thing. At the same time, reason not to make him an enemy (she had already suspected reasons). He'd so poignantly referenced the time he hadn't turned away. Not accidental. Manipulative.
He's too smart to be dismissed. His sort of gruesome isn't the sort she mindlessly hunts, not when his transcendent uses outweigh something as human as "taboo". But it's strange... Enough to make her curious (though never enough to witness, she's sure, thanks). She keeps her inquiries concise, thinking that in accepting this reality, fluffing it up with poetry will only detract. ]
[Yeah, he's a little shit. Good to have around in case of crisis, though. Depending on who's involved, of course, and whether or not Hannibal's anywhere for him to go frolicking after like a lunatic.]
Only in Baltimore. I think.
[That sounds terrible without clarification, doesn't it? Like Will just goes around eating anything and everything and hopes it ain't people. So.]
He was here for a few months, and I didn't know who he really was then. We had breakfast together several times before he left.
[ Had Hannibal Lecter ever brought anything with meat to the children's clinic before he left? Unlikely. Thank God the norm is cookies and lollipops.
How does one go from 'surprise cannibalism' to 'willing cannibal'? A question for later, maybe, since it can be received or returned a number of ways. It would be easier to read Will if this were in person. ]
So it's only a habit you indulge in when he's about? I don't need to worry about waking up one morning with a bite taken out of me?
[ Or not waking up at all for the sake of more food? The phrasing sounds jesting, but the questions are serious, and she feels warranted. Friend or not, learning someone might crave human flesh does raise some questions that ought to be addressed. What if a misunderstanding leads to him turning his latest doctor into a stew? If Mary knows anything in life, by proof of her own actions, it's that people are capable of anything. It's acknowledgment, not insult. ]
[Gross, Mary. So, so gross. Will tries to only take bites of crime, like a good crime dog. Technically speaking, eating the remains of poor Randall Tier was doing just that. Who else would it have been? Certainly wasn't Freddie, vulture who flew on eternally. A constant among Freds, it seemed. He ate a serial killer, so what?
...oh right. Bluebird and all.]
I wouldn't call it a habit, but yes to the first and only the first.
[The latter, however concerned she might actually be, is downright vulgar. He won't say it without pressing, too rude. But Lord, what sort of cannibal eats their meat raw? (Besides ghouls.) The vulgarity is not just within the implication or the image it brings to mind, but the acknowledgement. That despised undercurrent of Will Graham being capable of great things, yet if put under too much stress, capable of turning that completely and making greatness out of the sick and depraved.
He sees the acknowledgement. He gets it, understands she's not the same as anyone from his Baltimore throwing that out there. But damned if it isn't difficult to not take some insult. Acknowledging that Will can be just as good at being bad as he can be decent at being good isn't his type of compliment.
He keeps getting that compliment, though, doesn't he?
Perhaps it's best to embrace the madness after all.]
no subject
You are talking to a cannibal right now.
[Funny thing, this is easier in text. Not because "writing" it is easier than saying it, certainly not, but...there is a better chance that putting it in this way might have him heard. Completely. But then again, Mary has none of the experiences of those back in Baltimore to read that as "I attended a Lecter dinner party twice" so.]
no subject
Really, she had pieced enough of this together by, as he said, everything she's seen and heard. That's not what she meant by not understanding. His crude little drawing approach is an unnecessary joke at this point, but that's also why she laughs. Horrified, but...more understanding. That much she can. In the wake of one of the most cringe-worthy aspects that make up a monster, she can laugh, and she can appreciate. Hearing (okay, seeing) it said so plainly does make it impossible to beat around the bush and entertain the chance that she could have been guessing wrong.
She can still cringe, though, even while recalling a constant theme in the Baltimore gang's interactions. Shared trauma through Hannibal Lecter. Trauma that causes all of them a visceral reaction worthy of a ballad. Are they all cannibals? Only some? Where is the line between Hannibal, Will, and the rest? Why is he the blood brother? ]
By choice?
no subject
He'd pussyfooted around it with Ken, if only because Ken was Ken. Ken consumed human flesh (or ghoul flesh) out of need, even if that need eventually became a need for power. Control. His biology was different, he had to. Will Graham, on the other hand, did not. And while Mary has seemed to be a logically-minded human being (bless her for dealing with the mess of Baltimore), cannibalism is taboo for plenty of reasons and comes with plenty of suspicions. How does one go from a diet that one knows consists of human flesh when it's not clearly a bird or fish (and even then, what's in the sauce?) and go to something vegetarian-ish without thinking about it?
How badly does it mess with a person's mind, and when do they start to, say, crave it?
Not that he thinks Mary would ever buy into such ideas, but...it's not something he can help but to think of in times like these. In times where he skewers a slice of tomato, or spinach, or anything else, and sees a bloody lump of meat that he knows isn't chicken, pig, or cow. Times where April eats tacos or take out and all he can see is her stuffing her face with ground long pig.]
Yes.
no subject
He's too smart to be dismissed. His sort of gruesome isn't the sort she mindlessly hunts, not when his transcendent uses outweigh something as human as "taboo". But it's strange... Enough to make her curious (though never enough to witness, she's sure, thanks). She keeps her inquiries concise, thinking that in accepting this reality, fluffing it up with poetry will only detract. ]
Only in Baltimore? Or any since?
no subject
Only in Baltimore. I think.
[That sounds terrible without clarification, doesn't it? Like Will just goes around eating anything and everything and hopes it ain't people. So.]
He was here for a few months, and I didn't know who he really was then. We had breakfast together several times before he left.
no subject
How does one go from 'surprise cannibalism' to 'willing cannibal'? A question for later, maybe, since it can be received or returned a number of ways. It would be easier to read Will if this were in person. ]
So it's only a habit you indulge in when he's about? I don't need to worry about waking up one morning with a bite taken out of me?
[ Or not waking up at all for the sake of more food? The phrasing sounds jesting, but the questions are serious, and she feels warranted. Friend or not, learning someone might crave human flesh does raise some questions that ought to be addressed. What if a misunderstanding leads to him turning his latest doctor into a stew? If Mary knows anything in life, by proof of her own actions, it's that people are capable of anything. It's acknowledgment, not insult. ]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYjunrxUyAc → https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DIO43xfij3s
...oh right. Bluebird and all.]
I wouldn't call it a habit, but yes to the first and only the first.
[The latter, however concerned she might actually be, is downright vulgar. He won't say it without pressing, too rude. But Lord, what sort of cannibal eats their meat raw? (Besides ghouls.) The vulgarity is not just within the implication or the image it brings to mind, but the acknowledgement. That despised undercurrent of Will Graham being capable of great things, yet if put under too much stress, capable of turning that completely and making greatness out of the sick and depraved.
He sees the acknowledgement. He gets it, understands she's not the same as anyone from his Baltimore throwing that out there. But damned if it isn't difficult to not take some insult. Acknowledging that Will can be just as good at being bad as he can be decent at being good isn't his type of compliment.
He keeps getting that compliment, though, doesn't he?
Perhaps it's best to embrace the madness after all.]