[Will knows that words have meaning and that, no matter what his words really meant, they can be twisted to suit the agenda of another. Which leads him to:]
Keep in mind that if you go through with this, that if you take it upon yourself to remove her freedom of choice, you are not only pissing off the guy who thinks about killing people for a living, Mister Edgeworth. You're actively working towards pissing off Freddie Lounds.
[Welcome to the Baltimore crew, they use each other and eat each other on a regular basis. Try the veal.]
I see. So you're not retired enough from the job to issue bizarre, inexplicable threats. Again, for the crime of seeking to help someone you claim to care for.
Perhaps you ought to turn that keen eye upon yourself right now.
[Will's reminded of a time when, stuck in a hotel room, he and a coworker had a difference of opinion. Rather than continue the cycle of "no you're wrong, I'm right, look, I have reasons" and argue longer, he'd simply shut the door in his face, sat on a toilet, and talked to his boss. And because Will Graham's opinions on the Ripper are far more valuable than Z's, he got away with it.
There is no door this time, no boss, no bathtub holding a dead body to have a squabble about, but it feels oddly similar. Instead of shutting the door, Will hangs up without another word. If Hannibal Lecter and he are both willing to ignore the mourning family and friends of two slaughtered siblings, if Freddie Lounds is willing to call Abigail friend and push aside any inklings she might have about her following in Daddy's footsteps?
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Good day, Mr. Graham.
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Keep in mind that if you go through with this, that if you take it upon yourself to remove her freedom of choice, you are not only pissing off the guy who thinks about killing people for a living, Mister Edgeworth. You're actively working towards pissing off Freddie Lounds.
[Welcome to the Baltimore crew, they use each other and eat each other on a regular basis. Try the veal.]
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[This is retirement, in a way. But Will Graham isn't someone who retires easily. It'll bite him in the ass one day.
And then it'll bite him in the face.
He doesn't know that.]
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Perhaps you ought to turn that keen eye upon yourself right now.
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There is no door this time, no boss, no bathtub holding a dead body to have a squabble about, but it feels oddly similar. Instead of shutting the door, Will hangs up without another word. If Hannibal Lecter and he are both willing to ignore the mourning family and friends of two slaughtered siblings, if Freddie Lounds is willing to call Abigail friend and push aside any inklings she might have about her following in Daddy's footsteps?
They can handle a nosy lawyer.]