infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

[YOU BITE A DUDE'S CHEEK OFF ONCE, FOR VERY GOOD REASONS, PAST YOUR CANON POINT, AND SUDDENLY IT'S A HUGE DEAL

Will mirrors Jeff stance, which isn't just because of his empathy crap, but also because it makes the natural tilting of his chin to look Jeff in his smarmy face much easier. He is but a tiny man by comparison, he is Jack to the bearded beanstalk before him, and he has no desire to start climbing. He can fold his arms and taking a step back like they're one musical number away from being in a dueling punk biker gang, sure thing.]

You want a red right now? I can run down to the store. [There's Jeff's out. Does he want some personal space, does he want Will to stay? He can speak on it now and either way, Will won't mind. And to make that more legitimate...] We're out of red as of last night, actually, so I'd need to buy some anyway. Maybe I should stop cooking with it.

[So they can all be lazy winos.]

[It's not fair that Will's giving him such an easy out. It means Jeff's forced to make a decision, one that he considers for a few lingering seconds as Will makes his final point. Alone time is good, but he's been getting too much of that back home lately.]

Nah, I've got some scotch tucked away, we can just open that. Unless you already drank it. [It's pretty well hidden. He has, in fact, got several bottles hidden around his room because the idea of not being surrounded by alcohol is a frightening thought to him.]

You can just buy the wine tomorrow, in the meantime you're stuck here until I say so. [Or else! Don't make Jeff wrestle you, little man.]

[He steps back at last, gesturing to the room with one hand. It's not a mess, is it? There are no obvious signs that it's been rummaged through, nothing was broken in upset, nothing had been moved too much or taken away, right? How could Jeff even dare imply Will would not only snoop, but absorb his things like he wasn't allowed them, like Will had the final say in what was and wasn't his? Gosh, Jeff thinks the worst of him always.]

It's your scotch, Jeff, I can't drink something when I don't know where it is. [So there. SO THERE.] And if you're gonna hold me captive, I appreciate you doing so at home.

[Gracelessly, he flops on the edge of the bed, right where the former ruffle from his butt had been. Covering up evidence in plain sight is a valid way to go about it.]

You wanna talk about it or just get drunk?

[He's all about those outs and offers, choice being such an important aspect of life.]

[Jeff lingers for a moment, eyes narrowing suspiciously towards Will as he tries to assess the truth behind the words. And then he moves, moving towards the closet and blocking the view of him rifling around inside thanks to his bulk. Nope, not gonna see where he's hidden his scotch, even if it is quite obviously hidden somewhere in the centre, likely hung up in some pocketed area, given away by the fact he's reaching in that direction.]

Not much to talk about. [He decides with a noncommittal shrug, unscrewing the cap to the bottle as walks back towards the edge of the bed and drops himself beside Will. With the lack of glasses in reach, he instead takes a swig straight from the bottle then offers it over. Such class.]

Went back home for a year. Did more teaching, met a few new people, said goodbye to some friends, lost the one woman that I think I'll regret ever letting go. The usual.

[Will doesn't watch him, isn't interested in knowing Jeff's hidey holes (he isn't watching his booty, either). He runs a hand over his face and leans back, eyes walking along the wall as he digests the answer. There's plenty to talk about it but getting too deeply into it isn't up Jeff's alley. He understands. He won't press. He will, however, happily take that bottle and play the sharing game the old fashioned way. The way God intended it when He invented bottles!]

The usual. [Grumbled like he understands instead of suddenly feels a swell of envy. Will's usual would probably seem like a horror movie by comparison. If not for the last part, it wouldn't sound too bad at all. The last part sounds like it's own horror movie, though, and Will's quick cringe should make it obvious he finds that much painful.] Guess that calls for the usual in return, then.

[Usual boy's night in is just fine with Will; he gives Jeff another tiny smile before he hands that bottle back over. But he's here for whatever just the same. If Jeff wants to spice up their usual, Will's not going to run screaming. Why would he? There's free good booze to be had. He'd be insane to run from that!]

[The mundane life of a community college teacher is probably heaven to a guy used to horrific serial killing and cannibals, but to Jeff it's just a life of boredom and minimum wage. He's come to accept it and even enjoy it thanks to a small group of friends, but teaching is teaching and Jeff is no teacher. Maybe he should be grateful that he gets another chance at lawyering here, along with attention a star like him deserves, but he cant help lingering over the loss of two very close friends. ]

The usual is just fine with me. [Taking that bottle and swigging down several large gulps like the contents is water. No spicing up, especially not in the form of groping or hawtness, but Jeff does consider what he really needs right now.] Although getting wasted, forgetting everything and crashing on the bed kinda sounds like the most appealing option right now.

[Another swig at the mere thought of getting drunk and then finally Will gets offered the bottle once more.] You and April got a good thing going. Don't screw it up.

[Jeff is going at that bottle the way a marathon runner goes at any container with Gatorade in it after crossing the finish line, and Will notices this deep appreciation of liquor without drawing attention to it. He's had enough usuals with Jeff at this point to know he can hold his booze, sure, but wow. Lots of shit went down back home, Will can tell because something actually impacted Jeff in a significant way.

He's careful to wait a moment before taking that bottle, to let Jeff know that he's heard him, he's digested it, and he's taking him seriously. Everyone wants to be accepted and understood on some level, and part of that involves being heard. Perhaps Jeff will get so drunk tonight he won't remember this exact moment, but if he can hold onto the way it made him feel—hopefully better than he'd feel alone and ruminating over what happened while he was gone—then it's worth it.]

I have every intention to not screw it up. [There's gratitude in his voice as he takes the bottle back. Why yes, we do have a good thing together, thank you for noticing and approving, I'll drink to that.] If you crash, am I expected to tuck you in on my own or are you comfortable waking up with bits of raccoon fur trapped in your bed because I called in the fuzzy fire brigade?

[He is a wee man, after all, and if he gets enough in him, he won't be on his A game. Though maybe Jeff waking up with one sock on and other signs that he was a drunk taken care of by someone also drunk would make for super good breakfast conversation.]

[Even for the self-centered Jeff the pause is noticed, a slight moment of hesitation as his own hand lingers on the bottle while that gesture of Will's is processed. Did he get it? Maybe. Will must have plenty of his own regrets, and just maybe some of those would involve a woman. Maybe he understood. That would be nice, to have someone who actually knew what Jeff was getting at rather than expect him to be the one with all the answers.

He stares for a moment longer before snapping away his gaze and releasing his hold on the bottle, both hands sinking pathetically into his lap, shoulders lowered and sloping.]

You can bring in the cavalry if you want. Don't care. Whatever.

[Not like he cares about Will or anything! Tsuntsun. There's far more important matters to address anyway.]

Did you have a partner back home?

[Will is infinitely more familiar with a distanced approach—no laying on hands, no slouching against each other, no close physical contact for too long. But here and now, Jeff just looks so miserable and so lonely in a way that resonates with Will. It's almost like he's sitting next to himself wearing a Jeff Winger skin, which is really saying a lot considering how often Will can come across as utterly despondent. He feels compelled to reach out and provide something, but then that question hits and the moment's passed. Will makes a face as he shifts so he can lean back against the wall, a half-sit half-lay on Jeff's bed that's comfortable and relaxed without being oddly stretched out. It's just what they're dealing with as a place to sit, no big deal.]

Like April? No. [One arm wraps around his stomach instinctively, though in the context of getting settled it doesn't look too strange. Freddie had painted Hannibal and Will as partners in crime (or tried to), they acted as shadows and mirrors of each other. Jack and Will were side-by-side in their own way, too, but that's not what Jeff's talking about. Cop humor about partners will have to wait.] Didn't have the time or inclination. Married to my work, you know?

[And his nakama, Hannibal Lecter. Wait shit no.]

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