IC contact [Mask or Menace]

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"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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[Two parts of Mary's explanation made this relieving to hear.

For one, it was the same glimpse that the others who had touched him got as well. He wasn't blindsided by the revelation, which made it easier to hold a straight face. If she had spouted of something he had not heard before, at that fair, confused and unaware it had even happened, that would have changed. Possibly, depending on what she might have seen.

For another, rather than immediately see it as Will being the killer, returning to the scene of the crime under the guise of solving it, she picked up something else. That was how Will worked, end of story. How he worked, not how he set up murders to later solve, working behind the scenes with strewn guts to later be given the glory of finding the one who'd done it, whoever Will later set up to take the fall.

Mary had never shown herself to be dim, or slow, so that she comes to this conclusion doesn't shock him. Doesn't seem out of place. But as she talks, moves, he can't help following her lips, the lines of her body standing out more than they had moments prior. He remembers what he saw, remembers being in a body that was not his own, which isn't unusual...but being in Mary's body? He hadn't ever thought of it happening, not in such a fashion.

She speaks of man being animal, animals, and for a moment, Will's eyes on her neck are so intense it might very well look like he's ready to launch himself across the table and bite. Fortunately, he seems to become aware of that soon enough, and goes back to looking at the not-fully-coffee drink in his hands.]

Randall Tier. [A name that comes out much, much easier than Hannibal Lecter. A name he can lean back in his chair saying, almost at ease.] Wanted to be a cave bear. He slaughtered cattle first, a truck driver, a couple...didn't take us long to find him and put a stop to it.

[Because he came after Will, and Will beat him to death with his bare hands. But that doesn't make it out of him, and there's nothing overly odd in his voice or body language. Just discussing facts.]

I never intended for anyone to see that, I'm sure you...know. Feels polite to offer an apology anyway.

[So there's her apology. Gosh.]

[sizetwelve]

[ She isn't one to say everything she sees, anyhow, but the rest wasn't as relevant as the process. A bear isn't as relevant as a stag, because the stag isn't mentioned. Randall Tier is another faceless name to be filed away with Nick Boyle, no real classification other than 'dead' applicable. Killer or victim is irrelevant to the immediate context beyond that and connection to Abigail, to Will, to the hunt.

As he confirms the capture of Randall, she nods in eager approval of that much while reaching to stroke the dog's head again.

But then oh, such apology. Funny how she didn't ask for one, and she doesn't seem to remotely care that he's offering it. More pre-occupied with how he keeps looking at her, spied in glances between the dog, the coffee, and a window's reflection. Brows flinch as she narrows her eyes, though she turns the direction of her gaze to her coffee before anything can be read there beyond processing the story. Then she offers a smile for what was clearly a hapless instance, still unexplained even to this day. That burns, but she can let go of unsolved mysteries. There are many more out there she can solve.

Which ones are playing through his mind? He isn't Sherlock, but if there's anything that Mary took away from Will's memory, it's that his mind might be as dangerous. Sherlock hadn't suspected what she was for longer than she had even hoped to dream for, but he had to have suspected something about her. Maybe his connection to John had coaxed him into ignoring it while she wasn't a threat, but Will doesn't necessarily have that buffer. If anything, Abigail could be just the opposite considering her history. ]

Oh, I'm just glad you stopped the man, so that's what I'll keep with me. [ How did you put a stop to it, Will? ] Someone intended something that day at the fair, but it wasn't us. Nothing could help it, so there's nothing to apologize for.

[ Unless he saw something that upset him beyond a certain point. At that, her head tilts, her eyes wide in such an innocent gesture that one would have to be paranoid to instead see it as a hawk's inspection. ]

Is there?

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[Whether or not Will Graham is paranoid, or regularly veers there, is something of a debate. But here, he's just asserted his clarity. There is a difference between the two, he's also firmly aware of that.

So if he catches something off in her look the way she might have caught something off in his, he doesn't let it show. He doesn't know if he's reaching.

All those days in court, all those visits in the BSHCI, have made him much more adept at just letting himself be watched by hawk and sheep alike without ever once appearing bothered by it. The sheep could take that as a heartless killer, dreadful shame about that poor Hobbs girl, and avoid him. The hawks could wait for their chance.

Is Mary hawk or sheep, or somewhere in between? Will would never think of her as a sheep, not with her asserted beliefs on the evil on the humanity, not with her connections. Not with bluebird. That doesn't necessarily make her a hawk, though. Or a vulture. Or jackal. Or anything bad.

He doesn't want to lie. He's just not sure if this is the right timing for it, Will already torn up over the loss of Abigail. Mary already seeming ready to help him shoulder some of that loss. Can he afford to upset (or lose) a steady ballast in the midst of a storm, just because he couldn't realize bad timing for it was?

So he'll lie, and whenever (if it ever) comes up later, he has her own words to digest and put back out. He had nothing to apologize to her, for that day. Telling her what he saw, and felt, and knew, would just turn that back around on her. Why do that?

There may be nothing to apologize for, currently.

But he'll make sure there's something to apologize for later on.]

No. I wouldn't have known anything strange had even happened if Clark hadn't told me, right then and there. [His lips twitch in a smile, friendly and honest, not a hint of lie to be seen. There is relief in him, even, settling against the chair in more of a slump than anything else, going so far as to reach a foot out to bump Gunther on the nose. Playful and relaxed and comfortable.] Glad you didn't let on with Abigail, I should add. She...wouldn't have taken it well. You've been. [The opposite of what Will could be considered, right now.] Kind to her. That's rare.

[He's...not only speaking about Abigail, with that. She's not the only one from Baltimore (and the world around it) who isn't used to much kindness.]

[sizetwelve]

[ Liar. Something, at least, is going unsaid, but his skill at pulling it off makes it easy to ignore. Bless him. And so it goes, because it's safer for now. He doesn't need to apologize, and neither does she. Even after the gruesome memories she just shared, whatever he saw of hers is worth lying about, so it's either something dangerous by his standards or tragic by hers. Her past has honest sadness as a nurse and a partner, and he may simply not want to further upset her given the context, so she can't immediately suspect he saw something worthy of making her afraid. That's best, frankly, as she doesn't react so kindly to fear. ]

Clark? Like Clark Kent? You certainly keep mixed company.

[ It's an easy guess for anyone paying attention to the network. There aren't exactly a plethora of imPorts named 'Clark', surprisingly? It seems only worthy of passing mention to her, though, as she slinks in her seat to observe Gunther's behavior towards Will's easy affections and quickly grasps back onto the topic of Abigail & Co. (Why don't you just make yourself at home, Mary?)

Was Dr. Lecter kind, as well? You seem to have some heart left over. ]

Is that so? I haven't felt very kind. [ As true as a statement can be, Mary's smile is tight and half-hearted as she takes a generous drink of the cooling coffee. Even those Mary loves she takes advantage of. She won't stop, but she usually won't call it kind, even as Will seems to give her retroactive permission to lie-by-omission to Abigail. Ah, kindness. Of course, it can easily be dismissed as her feeling like she hadn't done enough for either of them. ] It can't be that rare here. I know that you both had a rough go of it back home, but those rumors didn't follow you here, did they?

[ Just rumors.

Does she need to stalk some gossip mongers? Those gents are as much (more) of a threat to her as they would be to Abigail or Will. Freddie had been a threat, but she'd been a threat intended to keep close. What if she had seen Mary's file? What if she'd seen it and shown it to Will? It isn't paranoia for her to entertain the possibility, but it also isn't something she thinks she should obsess about right now. Not until it becomes relevant. ]

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[Yeah, he's a liar. A liar who's made himself at home (why don't you, Mary, really?) and isn't getting much out of bothering Gunther. The dog takes it like a champ, reaches out with his tongue to get Will's foot drawn back quickly, the half smile on his face showing how much he absolutely would not mind a little dog slobber. And how much he likes Clark, on his own, answered with a nod. Not a lot of them named Clark, and only one Clark Kent. That seems to be an unfortunate thing, some days. The world would be better with more like him, as far as Will's concerned.]

Freddie...mentioned that I was locked up, when she first arrived. But Abigail wasn't here then. She might not have done it if she was. [Because no matter how much bad blood Freddie Lounds and Will Graham had between them, keeping the peace for Abigail Hobbs still took priority. That's something he can drink to.] Don't know how to say "you've been kinder than we're used to, you and John," without that sounding...insulting by comparison. But you have. Probably why she latched onto you.

[Because she didn't latch onto Hannibal or anything, either, right?

Oh, Will.]

[sizetwelve]

[ Oh, Will. And oh Freddie. Sweet peach. Why doesn't he ever sound like he hates Freddie Lounds as much as he ought to (at least to her eye)? Curious boy. ]

I'm not insulted. [ Can't speak for John. ] I had become fond of Miss Lounds, and the plan was for her to be in the bridal party. She owed me for a little something and being here in so little time, I didn't precisely have a plethora of female friends to choose from. I figured she would at least make it memorable.

[ It's the easy kind of rambling that seems dismissive, because in a way it is. While the topic of Freddie is intriguing to her (and the topic of Mary's kindness utterly is not), she doesn't wish to convolute the intent of this visit. And while she has her points to make, and her questions to answer, she can be patient. Will's proven himself nothing but a friend so far, and even knowing what she does so far doesn't change that a bit. John really doesn't need to know any of it, save for the confirmation of Hannibal's hand in Abigail's murder. And above all that, at the worst it merely makes him a person of interest to her. Thank God he left. ]

He may be gruff about it, and doesn't quite understand your...humor, but he's made of sturdier stuff than you might think. Keeps his own friend that's ruffled his feathers for ages, and they couldn't be closer.

[ Of course John has so much room for one brilliant git in his life, which is fine. More for her. ]

I suppose we all have our crosses to bear, and that's something that's easy to understand.

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[Will watches, quiet, the smile that crosses his face at the idea of Freddie Lounds being in a bridal party working as a surefire way to make it memorable making it difficult to keep on. But he does, lips twisting upwards more. He agrees about that one, and even though he trusts Mary (sort of) and Freddie was definitely murdered, this isn't the best timing for that, either. So he plays along with ease, because conversations about Freddie being of interest, or worth note, or making a scene aren't uncommon to him. He smiles and wrinkles his nose and nods, takes a drink like he'll drink to that notion, and lets it go.

A huff of air escapes flared nostrils, ruffled his feathers for ages, as Will also physically agrees that yeah, he can be a it of a handful at times. He knows. And he knows that John must be sturdy, his career taken into account. He finds no harm or foul here, in this conversation. It's good for everyone to be aware of where they stand. It's good for them to have clarity, and the ability to have frank discussions without worry that the other will take is offensive or rude.

One thing, in this moment, is not a front, or a lie, or a performance: he quite enjoys Mary as a person. He's quite glad she came over, he's grateful. Gratitude, with Will, breeds loyalty. Whatever bluebird might stand for, he's stood by a cannibalistic serial killer and discussed murdering a man in his own home, while that man was drugged and pathetically destroying his face.

If Mary stands with Abigail and Will, he'd be a right damn fool to not stand right next to her.]

Good thing, too. Easy's not easy to find. [Relaxed and comfortable, every part of him gives that vibe off. Because he is. Even when the next words come out of his mouth, perhaps abrupt and unexpected, a display of honest emotion that's raw and doesn't feel shame or a need to hide, he looks just as cozy.] Thank you for coming over. You were right. I needed to talk, and I appreciate you being willing to talk with me.

[Not to, or at. But with. With, together, a relationship that involves give and take, this for that, equal and rare. That's also not something Baltimore is overly familiar with, and something that's precious for it. Precious, worth holding onto, worth working for and fighting for as much as any war. To Will, at least.]

[sizetwelve]

[ Likewise, beyond (or is it before?) the desire to know just what makes him tick and what could turn him against her...she quite likes Will, too. She thinks John could, if allowed moments like this with him, but those things take time and their friendships with Will are separate. She still isn't certain what sort of things she should tell John, both in regards to fact and her suspicions, given that she very much wants him to continue to like Will and Abigail, especially as Will's doctor. She doesn't want him to be put in the same position that Mary had already placed him in once before.

Easy is not easy to find, and she admires that he points it out. Should seem obvious, perhaps is, but people forget, despite everything being hard. They really should never forget. Will is a reminder of many things, and the contrasts faced by his empathy and choices are never going to make those reminders as easy as what they're talking about. ]

I'm glad I did. For you, of course, but I wanted to chat to soothe my own wits, as well. To...know about her. A bit belated now, but— You're still here.

[ Not everything's lost (and she could still return). If this little visit helps Will in any manner of speaking, then belated or not, it isn't a waste. It's helped her, and not just from an intel perspective. She cares about these fractured people.

Carefully shifting her feet to plant more firmly to the ground, still aware of the dog's presence beneath the table, Mary straightens and reaches to refresh both cups with coffee and rum alike. Clink! ]

To Abigail.

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[Does Mary know what happened to those girls Abigail's father hunted? He can't help but wonder. While the idea of toasting, and drinking to someone, is common, does she realize what that invites when Abigail Hobbs is the one being honored? He looks at his refreshed cup and then Mary, as if this is all very unusual to him, but lifts the cup anyway and clinks just the same.

If she doesn't know about the extent of Garret's hunting, and it comes out later on, fine. He'll say exactly what he would if she asked now, that he partook of this because it was normal, and Mary didn't seem to know, didn't seem to be testing him.

His gut flips, though, at the mere thought of it all. Drinking to Abigail. Consuming with her name on his lips, and not as some topic of conversation. As the sole reason he takes it upon himself to ingest and encourage another to do the same.]

To Abigail.

[His stomach is still upset even as he drinks, but after a moment's consideration...Garret would never toast to Abigail in such a manner, would he? So possessive of his lure that he made her hunt with him, made it very clear it was these other girls or her own life that would be taken. The Shrike did not share. Abigail came, and Will fretted, and he worked to make sure she could be as free as possible. He met with Freddie to give them both a better understanding of it all, that Will wouldn't work against her in Abigail's presence. Frederick would have had to do or say something extreme for Will to be upset that he had immediate access to her, and he never felt envy over it. Abel Gideon, she saw herself in—whatever conversations they might have had, Will would never attempt to stop without legitimate reasoning. He did his best to be even with the boys in her life who showed more interest than friends. And here sits Mary, an outsider that Will had honestly been glad to have in Abigail's life.

He'd told Hannibal that he thought he would be a good father. Looking back, rationalizing it all, he had been, hadn't he? Not just in comparison to the Shrike and the Ripper, but in general. He'd done the best he could. He'd loved and been loved in return, they'd communicated, they had shared, there was give and take, and neither of them had wanted for anything. Weren't those the most integral parts of fatherhood? Eventually his stomach goes back to normal and that drink settles.

It had done the same when he knowingly ate human flesh he cooked, but he'll ignore that.]