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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[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.]