IC contact [Mask or Menace]

[infomodder]

"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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[Jeff is going at that bottle the way a marathon runner goes at any container with Gatorade in it after crossing the finish line, and Will notices this deep appreciation of liquor without drawing attention to it. He's had enough usuals with Jeff at this point to know he can hold his booze, sure, but wow. Lots of shit went down back home, Will can tell because something actually impacted Jeff in a significant way.

He's careful to wait a moment before taking that bottle, to let Jeff know that he's heard him, he's digested it, and he's taking him seriously. Everyone wants to be accepted and understood on some level, and part of that involves being heard. Perhaps Jeff will get so drunk tonight he won't remember this exact moment, but if he can hold onto the way it made him feel—hopefully better than he'd feel alone and ruminating over what happened while he was gone—then it's worth it.]

I have every intention to not screw it up. [There's gratitude in his voice as he takes the bottle back. Why yes, we do have a good thing together, thank you for noticing and approving, I'll drink to that.] If you crash, am I expected to tuck you in on my own or are you comfortable waking up with bits of raccoon fur trapped in your bed because I called in the fuzzy fire brigade?

[He is a wee man, after all, and if he gets enough in him, he won't be on his A game. Though maybe Jeff waking up with one sock on and other signs that he was a drunk taken care of by someone also drunk would make for super good breakfast conversation.]

[textualhealing]

[Even for the self-centered Jeff the pause is noticed, a slight moment of hesitation as his own hand lingers on the bottle while that gesture of Will's is processed. Did he get it? Maybe. Will must have plenty of his own regrets, and just maybe some of those would involve a woman. Maybe he understood. That would be nice, to have someone who actually knew what Jeff was getting at rather than expect him to be the one with all the answers.

He stares for a moment longer before snapping away his gaze and releasing his hold on the bottle, both hands sinking pathetically into his lap, shoulders lowered and sloping.]

You can bring in the cavalry if you want. Don't care. Whatever.

[Not like he cares about Will or anything! Tsuntsun. There's far more important matters to address anyway.]

Did you have a partner back home?

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[Will is infinitely more familiar with a distanced approach—no laying on hands, no slouching against each other, no close physical contact for too long. But here and now, Jeff just looks so miserable and so lonely in a way that resonates with Will. It's almost like he's sitting next to himself wearing a Jeff Winger skin, which is really saying a lot considering how often Will can come across as utterly despondent. He feels compelled to reach out and provide something, but then that question hits and the moment's passed. Will makes a face as he shifts so he can lean back against the wall, a half-sit half-lay on Jeff's bed that's comfortable and relaxed without being oddly stretched out. It's just what they're dealing with as a place to sit, no big deal.]

Like April? No. [One arm wraps around his stomach instinctively, though in the context of getting settled it doesn't look too strange. Freddie had painted Hannibal and Will as partners in crime (or tried to), they acted as shadows and mirrors of each other. Jack and Will were side-by-side in their own way, too, but that's not what Jeff's talking about. Cop humor about partners will have to wait.] Didn't have the time or inclination. Married to my work, you know?

[And his nakama, Hannibal Lecter. Wait shit no.]