infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

[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.

[Is there anything worse than cold fries? Other than what's apparently happening in De Chima, of course, that's worse by far. But cold fries are a more constant state of awful and should never be encouraged, and like hell is Will going to find it odd for anyone to eat in the midst of a crisis. Perhaps plenty of others in the bar have abandoned their peanuts and nachos and fries, oh well. Food is a part of home, too. The face he pulls is not at their continued consumption in such trying times, not at all.]

This is true. [Another point well made, points awarded to Dr. Wells for being rational.] But...you can take a backseat when you realize that's the best spot for you and be ready to go out on the front line when it's needed. When you'd actually do some good that way. Like you said, about how there was a time or two where you could be more proactive, more upfront. We all have talents, same as we all have things we're not the best at. Taking the backseat doesn't mean taking the backseat forever, just...as long as you work best there.

[He swirls his glass a moment.]

It doesn't have to be stagnant. People can be just as fluid as any running body of water.

[Stagnant. Stagnant. Haha.]

IC contact [Mask or Menace]

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