infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

[The sudden abrupt change is caught, however short it might be, and he doesn't think it has anything to do with the food. Was the topic that unappreciated? He hates to dwell on it, but it's only a matter of fact. However awful it may be, reality can't be turned away from. Then all that's left are sad delusions.

His eyes remain steady as he speaks, only subtlety trying to press for more information with his gaze. The intensity shifts only slightly when Will looks to the television screen, and instead he folds his hands on the bar, going into a state of mind that he can only describe as "doctor" in the fullest. This is who he is when people need it of him and when he needs it of himself in the moment.]

Everyone automatically assumes more gifts are better, Will. It's less to do about what's appropriate and more to do with what seems natural. That everyone should want the most they can get out of life. [And maybe that's just the fault. Not everyone is willing to maximize their potential and life to the fullest. Not everyone wants it, for reasons beyond him. He pauses, mouth part open, and slowly smiles in a tease.] But if that's how you feel, I'll keep it in mind when the holidays come around.

[Yes he gets people Christmas gifts, he's not a total monster and he actually happens to enjoy the holiday.]

[Will is very accustomed to doctors, though his standards for what makes a good doctor are slightly different than most as the majority of doctors he deals with are psychiatrists. The good ones don't use their power to destroy lives or take too much interest in him and his pure empathy (Alana) and the bad ones are...well, they run the gamut from true monsters (Hannibal) to the lesser ones (Chilton) to simply anyone who finds out what Will uses his empathy for and thinks he should be some case study. He's generally on edge, in one way or another, around them, and for a moment, when Wells starts speaking about everyone as an undoubtedly learned man, Will bristles. Looks at him with furrowed brow, borderline incredulous. But no, Wells isn't into the psychiatric, is he? And he doesn't know about Will's issues enough for anything too doctor-y to actually be a threat, as far as Will knows.

But damn if there isn't a moment where it looks like Will is almost offended. His mind goes quickly to its own better place, applies a balm, and Will looks at his bar fries like a man who knows he should eat but currently finds that a bit of a problem.]

More gifts would be fine, it's...getting one wrapped in Happy Birthday paper but saying Merry Christmas instead. Not that I'm torn up about it, that was reserved for the teenage years. [And not even for very long, if that wrinkle of his nose is anything to go by. Growing up poor did its number on Will before he could get too much of a big head about what was and what was not just owed him.] You're expecting to still be here for the holidays?

[That's refreshing. Unexpected. Will's clearly accepted that he has a place in this world and hopes it to be a longstanding one. Not the same with many others. Finding someone who isn't eager to talk about they'll have figured the Porter out by the holidays and get the hell out of here is...well, nice.

Not nice enough for him to eat his bar fries, though. Taking a drink? Hell yeah.]

[...Was what he said an issue? It seemed like it for a moment, but then it was dialed back. He was only saying what makes the most sense to him. Although, one of the things he's learned in the last decade is that his opinions and brand of honesty aren't often appreciated. Maybe Will is just sensitive? He's not really prepared to ponder that yet, not when this is a second conversation.

So he lets it pass, taking a drink from his glass and makes a small shrug when Will asks if he expects to be here.]

I'm not a...natural optimist, nor pessimist for that matter. Would I like to be able to say that? Certainly, but I don't see any reason to make an empty statement when I have nothing to back it up.

[The road home is never an easy one he finds. It took over a decade to even start coming close to going back the first time and the second time...he doesn't want it to take as long, doesn't want a chunk of his life wasted (people say you don't remember being here, but who can say for sure?), but he likes to be realistic about these things. Researching the porter has brought up very little and his current job doesn't line up with the time to study like back in his world.]

I've heard some people stay here for only a month. Others have been here for years. There may be no real pattern to the whims of this strange device that whisks people to and from their worlds. I'd like to understand it, but I won't bet on it to bend to my will.

[At least, not the way it is now. One day, maybe, but not today and not any time in the near future.]

[So many issues. Full of issues. More than in ten hospital waiting rooms combined, over here. And sensitive? Haha. Ha..ha...

Comfortably in the middle, then? Hm. Wouldn't have known from his shadow's reaction, but there's a lot of factors Will could blame that on and not all of them have to be negative. Still something worth noting, but then again, isn't everything in a second conversation?]

Sixteen months. [That...may sound abrupt, so he points to himself to make it more obvious.] April— [Does he know April? Balls.] —my wife, she's one of those who's been here for years. She was in the City. Somewhere before here. Seen plenty of people come and go. One month, six, sometimes they...come back. I've looked into it, put pen on paper...never been able to peg any sort of pattern. It's just. It is what it is, as they say.

[It's a much safer topic than birthday parties for dead young women, look at how he latches onto it, almost ready to dart off, even. And to ignore the whole bend to my will thing. Little creepy there, Wells. Fortunately, Will is used to much more direct creepy. Open conversations about cannibalism and who gets to come to the table do a number on a person.]

[Sixteen months and a wife as well. Marriages happening within a year of knowing one another aren't too absurd to hear of. The rational side of him, the one he knows best, thinks it's absurd to get married here. The other side, the side of the doctor, is stricken with an old pain. He closes his eyes, a small phantom ache coursing through his nerves, and resist the urge to take a drink when he reopens them.]

I heard of the City. It sounded like a calamity. [He didn't press for more answers, not when the person he was talking with was a young teenager who had grown from being a child in that last world. And he won't repeat it when he assumes Will knows the basics of the story.] I hope you and her are happy together here. That's all that matters, really. Love is found in the strangest of places.

[He pauses for a moment and stares down his drink, before taking off his glasses and smiling. It's not a good smile though - it's clearly pained, in a way he can't disguise. Damned emotion.]

I bet you two get asked 'why marry' a lot? Considering the porter. What do you say?

[His voice isn't judgmental, only faintly curious.]

[Doesn't take an empathetic sponge to realize that he may have just swum from one disastrous topic into another by accident. He watches Wells, only drops the intensity when he speaks, looks down at Wells' forgone drink instead. No one wants to feel like they're being scrutinized when they're having a moment, after all.

He nods when he risks looking back up, back at that smile that reminds him of his own more often than not, an acknowledgment that yes, it's a question they've gotten before. Acknowledgement and thanks, in its own way, that Wells at least words the question a little differently.]

Go in the sun too much, maybe get skin cancer. Walk on the sidewalk, all it takes is that one bad driver to come along at the worst time. Hell, go to a bank. Work at a bank, work any job where you have access to money. There's some sort of danger everywhere, but I don't let any of that stop me from going outside the house. They're all possible, but if I can go out, every day, and move past those obstacles without constantly being afraid of what might happen, then I can do it with this. The Porter put us here, yeah. Doesn't mean I have to let that fact control everything I do. That's no way to live. [In fear, even if he refuses to admit it. He sighs, rolling one shoulder.] April's answer is always a bit simpler. Home's dead to us, this is all we get. After over half a year of dating, it was time to put up or shut up. And it's a little odd to be fully grown adults and still talking about your boyfriend or girlfriend, in my opinion.

[This is all much easier, probably, when Will didn't have anyone back home (other than Hannibal). He has no idea about a future with a wife and a wedding ring that isn't as custom as this, has no idea that if he gets sent back home again he might return with a barrel full of issues regarding marriage. But here and now? Nah, no problem. Easy peasy.]

[He listens to Will's answer in silent, only gently bobbing his head once as the man speaks on the risks that are encountered in every day living. It's true, all of it. Could horrifying disasters happen at any moment, at any time? Possibly. The "possible" aspect is minuscule at best, but still in the realm of what could happen. Isn't the porter a similar risk? He thinks as much.]

A sound answer. Not something easy to keep in perspective. [He means that with honest respect. Risk is always present in life, big or small, and people always look at the bigger ones with alarm. Marriage is one of those large risks. He wouldn't compare it to going out in the sun like Will does, but he understands the point. Fear should not prevent people from living - educate them on how to live, in some ways, but not control them.] Your wife's answer is interesting too, though I can't share her sentiment.

I'm sure you've heard plenty of detractors, but don't pay mind to them. Love is...powerful. People always underestimate it, see it as weakness, but I think that's because they don't understand it. Don't see the value. I think denying love is such a sad way to live.

[Love, for him, has always been mysterious because while he feels it he can't always comprehend it. Logically he sees how it forms, but past that? It's hard. He's grown to have love for a lot of people that he never expected to. He doesn't feel ashamed or weak for feeling it, but he only finds it curious. Unexpected, completely so.

He smiles ruefully and takes a small sip from his glass and lets out a gentle laugh after.]

I must not seem like the type to say that, do I?

[Can he say how Will sees him? Not yet, no. However he knows his actions make impressions, even if they are not seen.]

Edited (I DIDNT PICK AN ICON...) 2015-08-20 03:47 (UTC)

[Will isn't at all offended when Wells confesses he can't share April's sentiments. They might be married (and, in some ways, still considered young lovers, not quite at the year mark yet), but that doesn't mean Will's completely incapable of hearing someone so much as politely disagree with her without wanting to tear into them like it's his duty.

Which is rather along the lines of its power, as Wells puts it, isn't it? Love can consume a person entirely. Epics have been written about the lengths one will go to for love. Love can be enough to die for, to kill for. Some don't need a reason to kill, of course, leading to skewed perspectives. But Will knows what it's like to care, the difference between actually caring and something warped and wrong. And he knows that even those with their warped ideas of love still feel, in their own way, that they do love, it's the same emotion. Perhaps even a superior form of it.]

Why, because you're a man of science? Cold, sterile, unfeeling facts. [People can say anything; what matters is that they actually believe it. Still, Will gives a small twitch of his lips that's friendly, a flicker of a smile. Lightly, because aren't there plenty of cold hard facts to back up Wells' opinion, too?] I can't think of any solid reason why your opinion on this isn't to type. But I've never been keen on types in the first place.

[This is a no judgment zone. Sort of. He doesn't like to be so obvious with it, certainly not share. Wells probably doesn't know exactly who he just ask that question of, either, so really it's for the best. And speaking of the best, Will extends a hand to gently nudge his fries a half-inch in Wells' direction. The most physical sign of "do you want these?" he can come up without asking, without risking changing the topic if Wells feels the need to talk a little more on love and what types, apparently, are allowed to respect and value its power.]

[A wry smile perks when Will begins to lists the cliches associated with scientists and doctors. All true things; all terms that he has been accused of being by his detractors. He intentionally keeps that guard up because it's the easiest way to go on. Especially in a world where the people may as well be museum dummies, all long gone in his eyes, oh but he does care. That's just the one thing he so rarely can ever let on. It's just that his care is selective and picked with careful caution.

Getting attached is just too messy. He can cut a thread, but he doesn't like feeling something when he does it.

When the fries get nudged over his eyes flick up to Will for a moment, a silent ask if he's sure, and then takes a couple between his thumb and index fingers. His own small basket of fries is just about gone, but he's not full and he can tell when he bites into them and has to restrain from beginning to binge himself on them. Never really satisfied in his hunger and if he eats too fast it might look strange. Appearances have to be kept up when people are watching. Once he swallows he speaks again.]

Types are just the easiest way people categorize the world around them. I don't particularly care for it either, but even I fall prey into using them before I think twice. It's not something I'm proud of. [He cants his head and puts a hand to his chin.] Maybe that's just the problem in the end. We put someone into a type and we expect them to meet all those qualifications. When that doesn't happen, we feel betrayed. It's not pleasant, but you can't quite blame that on the person you categorized in your own head.

[Maybe that's why everyone got so upset when they learned the truth and couldn't quite forgive him. They were expecting what he wanted them to and couldn't live with what the reality is.]

[He gets another nod, another nudge. Everyone likes the guy who gives them free food, after all, and Will's content to finish his first drink and set it aside for a refill. Will gives a roll of his eyes, a don't we all at confession of falling prey. No matter how self-aware a person tries to be, missteps still happen. Mistakes are made. To err is human and all that. But the rest of Wells' view renders him less expressive, boils him down to something quiet, contemplative, and oddly at ease. Like he's speaking to him more personally than Wells realizes, whether or not he's still in doctor mode.]

Don't put your hand on a stove top and blame it when you get burned just because the coil wasn't red yet?

[He says lightly. Cliché it might be considered, his voice connects much more than just pulling out a trite phrase. He hasn't just been burned before—he knew it would happen and did it anyway. Some had been thrown across Hannibal's fire without any clue. Will had essentially jumped into the frying pan, and even though he blamed Hannibal for his actions (mostly), he couldn't deny that he'd known the danger and went ahead and done it anyway. Not that he's going to spill his guts about Hannibal, but if there's anyone who might have some empathy for those who put up pretenses about who and what they are while being the opposite, later to feel their own sense of betrayal...Wells is at the bar with him, for better or worse.

If that gives Wells the impression that Will's stag being docile and harmless was due to practice or a front in and of itself, and perhaps Will is the not-yet-red coil ready to burn people to a crisp, he can't help that.]

Edited (that's not what singe means) 2015-08-24 20:51 (UTC)

Or don't take a bet if you're not willing to pay out.

[He picks up a couple more fries and plucks them into his mouth, smiling as he chews and savoring the lightly salted flavor. It's certainly cliched, but who can frown down upon a cliche every now and then? They exist for a reason and Wells thinks it's just one of those quirky things about the world. He takes the last sip of his drink once done chewing and taps a couple times on the bar, alerting the bartender to come and refill.]

Are you sure you don't want of these?

[He questions innocently, pointing to the fires before taking his glasses and sliding them back on. It seems like such a waste--

However his thought, and perhaps the answer to his question, may just need to wait. All of the sudden the sitcom re-run playing on low volume in the bar is cut off, the screen turning blue and a graphic title card blasting through with the words "BREAKING NEWS" alongside the channel's news logo. A reporter, well dressed and stone-faced in the way one must be when delivering a major development, appears sitting at the anchor desk and a subline appears on the bottom of the screen.

Bombing at De Chima University.

The bartender, after a moment of stunned silence, grabs the remote to bring the volume up so that the handful of people inside can hear. From there the reporter begins to list the details, panic absent from her voice (forcibly perhaps) and make clear the situation. Bombs releasing what is believed to be toxic gasses all over the university campus, during the dual Technology Fair and imPort Swear-In. The smile is already gone on Wells' face, his expression grave and wide-eyed. Not panicked, but momentarily shocked.]

Edited (details) 2015-08-24 22:12 (UTC)

[Cordial fades into tension, worry. Will's expression is just as grave as he turns his attention to the television, jaw set. Fingers have been snapped, pointed to a bloody mess, demanded his full attention, and he gives it immediately. What might be expected (or hoped for) with anyone in law enforcement, Will sees distress and keys in on it completely. Then again, the people he works to put away also key in on distress, but that's neither here nor there.

Will waits until the reporter gets what she has out, enough to go on. His eyes narrow as though he could pick out any familiar faces in the crowd, should the camera swing a certain way. His glass is clutched then set aside, completely ignored. In a low, gravely voice, he addresses Wells without turning to look at him:]

That's us. [Their little group, he means. Detective skills are truly strong with him today.] Should we go, see if there's anything we can do?

[Porter technology is great, they could be there quickly enough that they might prove useful...but they could just as easily get caught in the fray, couldn't they? Perhaps that's the point. Attack and make sure to draw in the others who haven't attended. Abigail and April had no intentions of going when he left the house. Chilton was on vacation. The three he felt the desire to protect the most were out of the picture, what reason did he have to go tearing off from this bar stool not knowing if he'd be of any use or end up making the mess worse? Time to defer to the doctor in the room. That had never gone poorly for Will.]

[His eyes turn to Will when he brings up the word "us", but his concerned dark look doesn't drop. With the shock fading away, his mind begins drumming through the people he knows are there. Cisco was planning a presentation all week long and Barry must have gone as well. There are other people there that he knows, he is sure, but none of them really come to mind as important. The latter can take care of himself, he's the Flash, but Cisco has barely even practiced using his powers...

There's a cold chill he isn't expecting to overcome him at the thought of the man, the boy, getting hurt. He finally opens his mouth, his face visibly tense, thinking Will may not like what he'll say.]

What could we do, Will? [His words are sharp, but his tone is oddly soft. Artificially so, an attempt to soften the blow as he delivers it.] Neither of us have an ability that could be of use. We'd more than likely get caught in the chaos of things. And I'm certain there are imPorts already there who could take control.

[In his case, it is a lack of want. He has no interest in playing hero, not when he already chose not to go in case something like this would occur. The only person he can think of right now, the only one he feels a genuine dread over what could happen, is Cisco. Cisco who is the closest thing he has ever had to a son. However he's already disavowed himself from taking care of him in these matters. Barry is there, so he will have to trust Barry can help. And while he can't trust Barry in a lot of things, he can trust Barry to be a hero at the least.]

Do you have people there you need to get to? I can drive you to the porter. [He thinks he should make the offer at the least. He won't go, but if Will needs to then so be it.]

[Oh, quite the opposite, this approach is such a sweet melody Will has trouble believing he's hearing it at first. He is so used to being in the fray, whether of his own accord or having it flung at him. This is new, this is refreshing. It's like Will's spent a life in silence and suddenly heard a harp for the first time, the way he turns his head to look at Wells is so struck. Confusion, awe.]

None of my people are there.

[Blunt, airy. For someone in his job, that might be considered a terrible answer, but it's the honest one. He sees Wells' logic, too, and agrees with it. He's simply not used to being told it's okay to sit something out. It's okay for him to be on the back burner and let people with better qualifications handle it. Coming from a world where he was the top dog of criminal profilers, he was always on the front line in one way or another.

This is the sort of altar he can get behind visiting more often. Who knew?]

You're right. There's no point going in now.

[God, is he even speaking a real language? His tongue feels thick, drugged, and he casually reaches out to scoot his glass forward. Bartender can give him a refill and listen to the news, yes? Will's a good tipper, and Goddamn does he need a drink.]

[The answer does surprise him a little and wonders what it says about Will's character. A lot of his expectations have been subverted slowly, equally intriguing and frustrating, as he tries to get a hold on who Will is. He's no psychologist and people are complex things to him, often difficult to understand. His hands lace together on the table, just as the bartender comes to refill both their drinks (though so clearly unfocused now, a little too shocked still) and he breathes in quietly.]

Do you think it might have been an imPort? Or is an outside group more likely?

[He hasn't been here long enough to have a full scope on all the potential threats out there, so he defers to Will for more information.]

[He could just leave the bottle and Will wouldn't mind drinking straight from it. Times of crisis and all that.

Will glances back at the television, taking a few seconds to piece things together, to see if there's more information to be heard. Unlikely, given that the situation is still happening, but when Will thinks of toxic gasses and imPorts? There's only one person that comes to mind. Without anything more to go on and a camera incapable of giving the full scope, though, who can say? He doesn't like that at all, frowning before he answers.]

Could be either. [No point "sticking up" for imPorts or attempting to throw blame on the government in some form or fashion. They're a dangerous group; it's nice for someone else to see that, to ask questions like these instead of something more naive, Who would do such a thing!?] We'll know soon enough. People who pull stuff like this rarely pass up the opportunity to brag.

[An imPort will probably smear their shit all over the Network, an outside group might go through newspapers, television, social media, whatever. Will isn't concerned this will remain a mystery for long, doesn't particularly find this pleasant even knowing so, and downs half his new drink in one go.]

[Wells up to the screens as well, but there isn't much at all to go on. Phone interviews with reporters on the scene, shaky video footage being livestreamed, information being regurgitated for anyone just tuning in to the disaster. The bar is relatively silent through all this, probably because everyone is thankful that they're a far distance from Virginia right about now.

He makes a light snerk at the mention of bragging.]

Oh yeah, definitely. [He shakes his head, bringing a hand up to rub his fingers against his strained right temple.] Seen it back in my world a lot. Criminals making big scenes and daring anyone to stop them. Sometimes just calling out one person alone, dragging others into a conflict. I could see it being any of those.

[It was such a damn mess. At least he could say that people only got dragged into his rivalry with Flash when they invited themselves into it. It reminds him of Captain Cold and makeshift crew stirring up trouble for a laugh. Or the Tricksters bombing and poisoning everyone around them.

He looks down to his refilled drink and scowls, pushing it over to Will.]

Have it, I'm not in the mood anymore. [And it's not like it would do anything to him anyway.]

[That gets Will's attention. Not that Wells is familiar, but the last bit in particular. Hannibal had been rather cruel about that. Then again: Hannibal was cruel about everything. He can't read minds, fortunately, but they invited themselves into it...an easy way out of blame, isn't it? At the same time, though, there is some sort of honor to giving others acknowledge for their actions. Nodding that they chose to do something, be it heroic or plain stupid, and respect such.

Attention only redirected when he realizes what he's being offered. Will isn't one to turn down a good drink, no. He understands it might be viewed as callous to continue drinking with everything going on now. Oh well. He's used to worst case scenarios, and this place has been good at providing them time and again. It's not desensitization, it's coping. Doing what's necessary to keep on keeping on.]

Thank you. [What does Will do? The only thing a simple man of simple pleasures should, taking another sip from his before carefully adding the rest of his drink to Wells'. Everything goes in the same place, and there's no one in this bar now who has any reason to stand on pretense about you just don't drink like THAT. More important things are going on!] What happens after? In your world.

[He can't help but be curious about the worlds where powers aren't unheard of. Jaime Reyes and his damn evil gorillas are something a person just does not forget.]

[He pays no mind to the mixing - not right now anyway. Maybe in a more relaxed setting he'd make a judgmental look about how it could ruin the taste, make the composition of the drink diluted, but not now. There are more important things than how someone chooses to take a freely offered drink.

Instead he focuses on the next question and lets out a gentle breath through his nose.]

Usually a hero rushes in to save the day. Not much different than here. [He says with a small smile, hoping to inject some levity into the dire circumstances.] I think I mentioned my work in researching meta-humans, right? I also worked with them, and the police, during crisis moments. Not much unlike this - [he points a finger to the television screens] - really. Sometimes situations arose that the police simply weren't equipped to handle, so my team and I gave as much assistance as possible in those times.

[He sees no reason to hide this. Among a community that values heroes and their efforts to protect others, saying you worked with one is usually a mark of trust. If he was back in his world he would never openly admit this, but here? He sees no harm in telling Will about it. It just makes his assertion that they shouldn't get involved even more substantial, not when either of them have the abilities needed to help. Or well, allegedly in his case.]

[Will partakes of crappy, crappy beer the same he partakes of exquisite sweet wines, he has no concern as long as it's alcohol and it gets the job done. He tries his best to simple man when and where he can.

Will's nose wrinkles, jaw setting the longer Wells explains. He can relate, doesn't quite like how he relates, but it's a line of work he is extremely familiar with. That was how the FBI functioned in several aspects. Sometimes the police didn't like it, sometimes they didn't want anything to do with a particularly brutal, horrifying case and were glad to pass it off. And when they were, there was Will Graham on a long, unsteady leash to take the ball. Run or fumble, solve or die. How much more was that sense amplified when dealing with powers instead of simply smart murderers?]

Assistance. [He frowns, glancing from the drink back to the TV.] Were you ever on the front line?

[Or did he leave it up to heroes, even then? Orchestrating things from behind the scenes, like a man with puppets?]

[Wells can't stand to not grin at the question, turning his head toward Will.]

I'm a doctor, not a hero.

[He lets the catchphrase hang in the air before making a gentle snicker. The front line. It's almost tempting to tell Will about his handicap, the one he created and literally sat on for over a year. Maybe it would garner some sympathy for the poor cripple, who can now walk - miracles, truly. He only holds back because he doesn't see the need for that fake sympathy. Doesn't see a reason to disclose it, at least not now. He can't pull out all his cards on one night and a second chat.]

No, no - I didn't have any powers before I came here Will and while I work-out I'm hardly fit for combat. While there was a time or two where I was able to be more proactive and upfront to the action...I stood behind a desk and gave my assistance there. And I like to think the help I gave there would be as valuable as someone on the front line.

[How many tragedies and near-death experiences were avoided and worked through by him just speaking into Barry's ear? Too many for him to even stomach at times. Sometimes he wonders what his enemy would even do without him. It's pitiable really.]

[That earns Wells his attention again, Will quickly looking back from the TV with eyebrows raised, lips strained as he keeps a smile from them. But Wells recognizes the humor in what he said, which means Will can smile like a normal human instead, taking a sip of his "double" as he digests Wells' approach to his old job.

Well, Will supposes that the guy behind the desk who gave out information (or orders?) wouldn't always be keen to rush into a situation, even if he did have helpful powers. Perhaps Will should stick around Wells in a bar every Swear-In. Have a better time that way.]

I wouldn't doubt that you were, Doctor. It's good to know your limits. Where you can excel and where others can excel...not everyone gets comfortable enough in their own skin to recognize that. Have that level of clarity, so to speak.

[Team Eobard Does Not Get Paid Enough For This Shit]

[He really doesn't.]

It's just part of the job. [Personally he never saw it as a big deal, but that's just his opinion.] What about you? Ever considered yourself a front line man?

[Will seemed interested in going out to help right away, despite backing down quick.]

I was at home.

[Truth and a lie, though there comes a point where they blend so perfectly it's difficult to tell a difference. Career-wise? Yes, he's very much only on the front line when he's under Jack Crawford. But when it comes to his personal life, when it comes to those he cares about being in any sense of danger, Will is very much ready to put himself out in front. For things he can handle, sometimes for things he might not be able to handle...but that's part of having a family. That's part of being the guy who collects strays. He can't just let them sit in the cold, he has to protect that which is his. Adapting to dangerous situations is part and parcel of it, and one day he may very well come up against something he can't handle.

If he does, he'll go down fighting. Biting, even.]

Footing's different here. So are the politics. Makes taking a backseat sensible.

[What he means is there's a lot of bullshit going around, in Will's opinion, so Wells' choice to sit it out is one he's perfectly okay with. He'll drink to it, even, and there goes another swig of that mixed whiskey because why not? Why not. He's an adult, he can drink if he wants to. He can also toss out a subtle little compliment at the same time, layers underneath. That is, of course, if Wells finds being considered sensible a compliment.]

Being "at home" is better than anything else.

[Wherever and whatever 'home' may be, he thinks it's important to have one. A place of comfort, where you feel safest and at peace. Sanctuary from the world, whatever world it may be, that can be so suffocating on the worst of days. He can tell Will holds great value in home - it makes it easier to talk to him.]

I don't know if taking a backseat is the best idea, depends on who you are, but it is sensible yes. [He tenderly bites his lower lip and picks up a couple fries, starting to grow cold.] Although if everyone took that seat, then progress wouldn't be made either. It's a fine line to balance.

(no subject)

infomodder - 2015-09-11 19:29 (UTC) - Expand