infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

Rick said not while we had kids in the house.

[ That story is really only notable because April actually listened. Mostly because she had liked Cole at the time she was buying cards, and Rick is the semi-father type she never really wanted or asked for but here they were. If not for him, they'd be playing with a mixed sex nudie deck. Which probably wasn't exactly like the one Will's dad and friends had provided years ago, either.

And that raccoon taking residency in his lap? Oh yeah. He will be working to help her cheat. Just like the one sitting on the ceiling walk-way above them. Her own shuffling, sadly, is not fancy enough to help her cheat, just the normal cutting the deck over and over. Card sharking would have to be a hobby for another time.

But, shit. She was bringing up kids again, which means she takes another look at the communicator...and god. When not using making out she is just the worst at this.]

Why'd you go do the law, cop thing? It just, you know. Doesn't sound like the kinda guys you grew up with.

[Rick does have that kind of feel to him, Will's noticed. He's constantly aware of where Eduardo is whenever he's in the same room and hopes that any reports given back to him by his raccoon brethren aren't offensive to the little fellow. He doesn't want Eduardo to have a reason to try and toss him out a window, sees him as a sort of leader figure. In the same way, if anyone in the house were to raise a complaint about Will's presence, he'd listen. Of course he would. But if it came from Rick, it would feel a little more like...well, actually getting in trouble. Despite the fact of the matter that whatever age difference Will and Rick had honestly couldn't be much, it didn't matter. It would still be like getting scolded by the human Eduardo and he would still pay him extra attention for it. That Rick laid down the law and April listened isn't surprising.

Though he's not sure if April's gotten the same story Will did. And if she did get said story, she probably didn't ask the same question. The same, possibly TMI question.]

Hey, buddy. [Raccoons in Will's lap not only get an immediate view of his cards, they also get physical affection. Tickled necks and ears wiggling due to being scratched at the base of them, how could they ever sell him out? Too bad he doesn't care if they do. It's just cards. And if he covers up one of his cards so that the raccoon can't see, then what? What now, Clammy Shitbreath? It's a family affair, even when the kids are gone or hostage.] Benefits can be pretty good, pay's decent if you get into certain parts of it and know what you're doing. Watched my father and most the guys he worked with struggle to make ends meet, move around without any sense of security. Didn't seem too appealing. I've got my own home, got a barn, got my own land. Never woulda gotten any of that if I did the boatyard hop.

[Which really, boiled down to someone who's not completely aware of his empathy disorder, sounds like one thing, doesn't it? One thing that has him pulling a face.]

Money.

[Makes the world go around.]

[ She could kinda get that. Somewhat. She'd grown up in the three bedroom house with the picket fence and childhood therapy sessions and all from the loving parents, but those were kinda the reasons why she was still working in government. Because she had some kinda talent for it and it wasn't a job that was going away. But, seriously. That wasn't a real answer, not if he kept going after getting shot/stabbed/whatever. But it's fine. It hardly mattered here.

The cards get dealt, and April tries to remember all the rules for this game. Last time she played she'd mostly just been intentionally terrible and stole from people when they weren't looking. One on one, it was a little harder to play that way.]

Not the uniform?

[There goes an eyebrow, and not because he's have a human thumb-raccoon paw war over what one of his cards is.]

No. Was a little scrawny when I first started, didn't fill it very well. [Will in a uniform, could be done if April ever outright asked, though he's not offering that one up. Casual reminders of that time when he was legitimately part of a group instead of being on the edges of it, too unstable to ever be proper FBI.] They're not too easy to keep care of, either.

[Pain in the ass is implied in his tone, but he's not outright saying it, not when he finally lets up on the card coverage so the cheating is made much easier. Doesn't want the little fellow to think Will means he is also a pain in the ass.]

You must have seen cops all the time if you were involved with politics.

[That's a question, the hint in his voice that should be added missing.

Mostly because he's trying to get the rules for gin rummy back in his head, not unlike April.]

[ They were going to end up with half-assed house rules that ended in whoever said a bullshit rule with the most confidence winning. Which was, of course, how April normally played anyway. It was just be a twist for it to be a game played by two. ]

Parks and Rec has rangers, not cops. And Mitch had his own bodyguards. In the real City.

[ Cops were people to quickly scatter from when the house party was broken up, or some guy Donna was maybe sleeping with. ]

Didn't really see them unless they wanted money. Or I was at a strip club.

[ Because the sexy cop strip tease never goes out of style. But, sure. He had a point. Working in the DAs office was expending her horizons slightly.]

But there's more now, I guess. With the criminals and their babysitters and stuff.

[Half-assed house rules is nothing new to him, and he's tempted to just hand his cards over to the tinier mammal in his lap and tell him to show April. Just turn them around, buddy, it's okay. He might eventually. For now, he just takes another card off the top of the pile and shuffles it in, sure to point to at the top of it and make sure Clammy Shitbreath knows which card he's seeing. The look on his face morphs into an unholy frown at the mention of strip clubs, though. All too familiar with sexy cop strip teases, whether he wants to be or not, that's what that face says.

And the joy of being the actual cop in the strip club.

It's kind of impressive how miserable he manages to look, discussing strip clubs with the woman he's not too secretly dating. Almost unnaturally miserable.]

I spent most of my time as a homicide detective, so you wouldn't have seen any of us unless somebody'd been murdered. [Absolutely miserable times at the strip club. But that frown vanishes. Goes back to the thin grim line his mouth seems to have been born to remain.] What do you mean, criminals and their babysitters?

[Criminals can be babysitters, too. Look at Lecter. Look at the raccoon above him flashing signals about his cards and he doesn't have a Goddamn clue about it. This upside down world.]

[ The spies are handy, but honestly without firm rules who has what cards hardly matters, outside of April trying to engineer rules that apply to the ones she has, but not that ones he has. Which is what she will be doing, in the vague, handwaved part of this conversation that involves actual cards and points. For the most part she's just tossing out the cards with the most ridiculous looking women on the back of them, though.

The frown is more or less ignored. If she went chasing after every single negative expression...well, they'd spent all night just talking about feelings and junk. And who wants that? ]

You know. I bring papers to meetings and trials and stuff. There's always a cop making sure the guy doesn't strangle one of my bosses or post mean things on their facebook page or whatever.

[And the cards that look the most ridiculous are the ones that hold any real interest on his end. Anything to do with cops or the military seems to be passed over. Almost purposefully, even.]

He better be making sure nobody tries to strangle you, either. [That might be the same sort of serious tone Will generally talks about murder in, though whether he talks about it in his socks and playing rigged rummy isn't being stated.] If he's not [No he's not being overprotective at all, not him.] then he's not doing his job right and should...have some further education on the matter.

[Night Class with Will? More like Night Class with Eduardo.]

Mm, true. The murderers and jay walkers might one day figure out the real strength of the law comes from the coffee bringers.

[Maybe it's not the best thing to joke about considering what's going on over the communicators behind them, but April is clearly not concerned about her safety, here. She has taco and being a low ranked employee power to save her.]

Bug, god. Don't go spray painting the station with fish puns in warning. Work's way more boring than super law should ever be allowed to be.

[It's not the best thing to joke about, no, but it's not intolerable. A flow of conversation, not an insulting reminder that came out of absolutely nowhere. Still, he appreciates that she swims elsewhere with it, even if the look on his face at the mention of fish puns gives off confusion more than anything else.]

I'm no artist. Wouldn't be very good with spray paint. [Couldn't make bad puns truly artistic, no point in even trying. He wonders, when he draws his next card, what would happen if he didn't look at it. Didn't show it to the raccoon in his lap. What if he just kept it unseen and put it on his shoulder, would it get grabbed—well yes it would, apparently. Gotta be helpful, Will clearly doesn't know where his cards go, they go here, put back in place with a completely obvious flash in April's direction. Rigged rummy has never been better.] Is it just that they're puns or is it the fish part?

Every one needs a signature.

[ Or that's what Eddie had always said, anyway. Gotham people were to blame for this idea, really. Maybe Will would have a different mark in mind, but for the moment she's going with fish pun.

Now, granted, this is all thanks to the raccoon clearly on her side, but April is winning the hand. Or would be, if she actually took a moment to keep score. Instead she just puts the cards back, handing the deck over to him for the next round. Shuffle and cheat as you will, Graham. She might be slightly disappointed if he doesn't at least try.]

[He's tempted to remark that it's definitely not his signature, was gifted him when he got here, but that gets into what his signature would have been back home and that's dire and involves feelings, who wants that?

Will takes the card deck and shuffles, but his idea of cheating isn't as simple as relying on raccoons to help him out. No, his is a crueler, more brutal, more manipulative method. He shuffles the little guy in his lap off to the side, holds his hand out to keep it from getting back on, and reveals his master, sinister plan:

The game is now between April, Will, and the raccoon. No buts, no ifs, no stuttering, because he deals the first card to the animal, then April, then himself. There is no room for argument. If fuzzy wants to get in on it, he can also play. He is now involved in a more immediate manner, may his loyalties and nerves be forever tested.]

What's your signature?

[His cards are a little closer to the chest this time around. Anyone trying to peek over his shoulder might find they have to actually tap it, make him move to get a better look. For the most part, at least. One of his cards ends up faced out after he catches sight of it. That's the easy cheat April gets. Everything else is going to take a little more work this time around.]

[ Oh no, Will. This is a terrible plan. Of the three of them, the raccoon is probably the only one with any actually knowledge of the rules fresh in his mind. Which may have been why it had been getting handsy and frustrated as it tried to signal things to April and she hadn't really changed her game plan before. He knew what he was doing. The two humans were doomed. Unless April totally glares him down and he folds, that is. Which, considering he'd been getting more treats from Will than here lately, may not be likely.]

That's not how it works.

[Will's been doomed for a while now, he can handle losing horribly to a raccoon. This change in the game is absolutely no skin off his back, that much is obvious. He's as relaxed as he ever gets and the fact of the matter that he smiles and it doesn't go away is a glaring neon sign that, even if the child bride's in peril, April's company is something he values.]

How what works, this game of cards or finding out what you think your signature is?

[It's true that Will is a treat machine. Very true. And he proves it again, not at all subtly tugging out the small baggie of dog treats in his front pocket and tossing it down in front of the raccoons' cards.

Go hard or go home. What's the difference between hypnosis and bribes? Will Graham may never know.]

Oh my god.

[ She almost does it. She almost just tosses down her hand as Will blatantly bribes the third player away from her glaring method working. But she manages to take a small breath and recall they are just killing time until Abby returns...hopefully unkilled. Ugh. There was a thought.

One that ends in her diligently playing a few cards, even if she's only half sure it will earn her any points. ]

You have to guess it. It doesn't count if I tell you.

[That smile warps, what are you gonna do about it? Would she take treats from a raccoon who's day is getting made the longer he hides his cards, would she take away his joy, that he might currently be head of the group in Will's eyes? Look at him, first being welcomed into his fishy lap, then physically loved on, now getting free food? His rank is moving up and up and he gets to look at cards of human women in odd clothing that sometimes barely covers what it seems they think should be covered. The fuzzbucket has every right to enjoy this attention, who would be the monster to take that from him?

She plays her cards and Will shifts his around, takes a moment, plays his own, and draws again, looks at the guy crunching down on a biscuit and waits for him to take his turn.]

If we're going by animal themes, you do have that tattoo on your ankle and you did tell Mary Morstan your name was Snakehole. [Will follows conversations that he can see, he's ceased hiding that, at least with the people who know.] Following those clues, I'm thinkin' you've got a thing for snakes.

[The kind that the mongoose doesn't have to do a deadly dance with. The kind the mongoose can pal around with and do other, more enjoyable dances with. A pretty damn fine snake.]

Edited 2014-11-12 07:33 (UTC)

Just the one snake.

[ The logo and the name came from the same, stupid source. A trashy bar in a middle of nowhere town she'd once scammed out of some money and drinks for fun during a date. Money they had, admittedly, instantly given back because that was the way life had been then, but still. It'd been one of the toddler steps of a potential growing criminal career.

But he hadn't gone for the obvious and picked raccoons. That gets at least a little extra credit. She shifts how she's sitting slightly, stretching that tattood ankle out across the bed, just to the side of where the cards are laid out, bringing the foot to rest next to him just so she can glance at it again. There was days she forgot she'd even gotten in, a mark picked up in the City she was pretty sure wouldn't even be there anymore if she got ported out and back in again.]

But I could expand, I guess. Leave a rabid cobra behind at every crime.

[Snakes don't carry rabies is the first thing that runs through his mind when she brings up the idea of rabid cobras. He knows the word has other meanings, of course, but that's not what keeps him from blurting it out. He's neglected to do anything with his cards because he's not just looking at that tattooed ankle, no. He reaches out, one finger following the winding line along her skin, careful to have started without touching the fangs or tongue, as if it could really bite him. He wouldn't be surprised if one day she revealed that she could move it, had some power to use it as a tool for hypnosis, had wooed all her raccoons that way. The fact that snakes don't carry rabies and he was going to say as much is lost by the time he reaches the tail and wiggles his finger over the squiggly at the end. He assumes it's a rattle, but it also reminds him of the lines that show actions in comics and lightning.

It's probably a rattle. He'd probably look like an idiot if he asked after. Probably.]

You'd have to be able to tame the cobras first. Make sure you weren't leaving them behind at a crime scene they'd made you the crime scene. [Not that dogs or raccoons can't turn with enough reason, too, but they don't have venom.] It'd be easier getting hognoses, anyway. Nonvenomous, but with a distinct ugliness that makes people think otherwise.

[Does he get points for his play? He's pretty sure he does. He's pretty sure he just got more points than he really should have, considering he's the one with the treats at the moment, but that's neither here nor there. As for snakes and their distinct ugliness, he's not looking at anyone in particular when he adds that in.

Well, no one but the really absurd cop-themed pin up, but she doesn't count.]

[Her toes flex as he traces the tattoo, but she doesn't move away or anything otherwise. It had kind of been the point and all. Getting some attention, from tracing or poking or whatever worked.]

Or you can just train then and I'll pick them up when I want them.

[ Because that sounded like a lot of planning for her life style. But with Will they could live in their own pun-theme room. The hiss house. Or just the snakehole. Right next to the insect emporium he was building. She tosses down her own cards- totally random ones, go ahead and call her on it- as she images it. A lot more deadly awesome looking than the bug room. Probably just as much grossness potential.]

[There's a moment where he is tempted to prod one of those toes, but when one thinks of toes and how parents call them little piggies and how piggies are people who are rude and end up brutally murdered, it's probably best not to deal with toes.

...or think of parents when he's with his super secret girlfriend who is much younger than him.

Jesus, that's one not to say out loud. To anyone.

He plays a hand that's rather in it to win it, not because he lined up the cards by number and type, no. He just played a hand of four pin ups represented the four branches of the armed services. Skills.]

I don't know how to train snakes. I'm supposed to throw them in the slammer or kill them, not treat them like pets. [Or like raccoons, ones trying to figure out what the fuck Will's hand even means when it none of it immediately aligns.] Would you tell me to my face if I sounded irrational?

[Chilton has, for the time being, turned his world on an edge. No one calls out his shitty metaphors and similes. No one. Raccoons might call out his bad hand, but that's to be expected.

Because talking about himself like an actual animal and comparing serial killers to snake is totally rational, isn't it.

He does not seem to be aware that what he just said can be taken as extremely "off" if the look on his face is anything to go by. Everyone talks about themselves as animals and inanimate objects, don't they? Of course they do. He's asking so honestly, too. The end of the line, wits compromised, no paddle, no anchor, no lighthouse.

Only April Ludgate. Only has eyes for her.

And her cute little piggies.

Shit, no.]

What...like wanting to work on wall street and get a retirement plan and a white picket fence to imprison children and puppies or something?

[ Babe, she...has feelings towards you. But she is probably the single worst judge of irrationality he could pick. She's not even looking at the cards, or at the raccoon wailing about the rules not being followed, or anything else but him after that question from the left field. Not that she minds, left field is her favorite field. But it's an extremely relative question. ]

[Ricky Martin is, in fact, displeased with the current set of cards being played. Will holds a finger out at him for it—the couple is talking, you hold your Goddamn tongue, go ahead, eat some more dog biscuits, good boy—before picking them all back up and drawing, passing the turn along.]

Irrational, not insane. [That is a level of sell out Will could not possibly reach, isn't it? And he can't see April with a white picket fence, either. Not without it having some fake blood on certain "spikes" along the way for shits and giggles.] You know, if I made a really...poorly put together metaphor or simile...that crumbles halfway through and I just kept going anyway, making it even worse, would you—would you tell me it was bad?

[He needs a paddle.]

[ He is losing her here. Not physically or feelingsy or anything, in fact she moves her foot off the bed, placing it more or less into his lap, to underline the maintained contact. But mentally, he is wandering down a memory lane she does not share, nor has reference for. What he just mentioned, the whole broken metaphors and similes, was Leslie during one of her finer rants, or Mitch when he hadn't had enough coffee. But, okay. She can be supportive.

She reaches over to pick up and hold forward the woman in the water card from earlier, then holds it up between them. ]

I swear, on this semi-pornographic fisher woman, to always make fun of any terrible world play. Pun, metaphor, or attempts at alliteration. All of it.

[Foot in lap, okay, he can deal with that. His head goes through a variety of ways to break a foot to the names of all the bones in a foot back to piggies as he looks down at it, makes no move to push it aside. But he is totally focused on that foot until she draws his attention back to the pin up card and then he's as much at a loss as she is.

She hasn't even heard them and she's already telling him she'll mock every single one he spits out.

She's earned a dumb, slack-jawed expression, reminiscent of a cow more than anything else. Not because he's faced with a truly beautiful fisher woman. That card is fuzzy at the edges with the way Will's attention narrows down to April and April alone. Even his hand bows out a little, giving the raccoon all the answers he needs.]

Good to know. [He's tempted to toss out out one he's used in the past, but considering they end up relating to feelings and people here, maybe that's not the best idea. She's managed to daze him enough he might jumble them anyway. Besides, he might be able to one up it, and when he lays a hand over her foot firm enough to stop it should she kick out, oh God. She knows it's coming, doesn't she?] That's very helpful of you.

[His personal Hero.]

I also get to hold up a sign when you're being a jerk.

[ She tosses the card (lightly) at his general chest area, rolling her eyes at that whole 'helpful' nonsense. Does it really count as helping if it's making fun of puns for her own entertainment? But, really, she could see requests about telling him whether a random raccoon was real or not, or letting him know when he's failing to fit in with the youth or his outfit is, but all rights, some mild crime against humanity. But turns of phrase is a weirdly, highly specific request.]

So...why?

IC contact [Mask or Menace]

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