ic contact 2 mask or menace

[infomodder]

"Gone fishing."

[ so don't leave messages to ruin the after fishing glow !!!

your one stop shop for not leaving him alone, previous contact post can be found here ]

Comments

04.17.2017 -- text;

[slightlyoffchilt]

Checking in on you.

1/2

[infomodder]

Thank fuck.

[infomodder]

Welcome back to the waking world, Frederick.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[He felt a sudden and brief pang of guilt; he had been back for a few days now. Just hadn't touched base with Will, even after... Knowing. About April. About Hannibal. Knowing that Will Graham was relatively alone, with half his social circle missing.

Whoops.]

Thank you.

Any word on Hannibal? Have you been relieved of him?

action. backdated to early april.

[bosewicht]

[ When Gabriel Gray arrives, it's not with a knock at the door. It's not even with the shattering of glass. Certainly not with a phonecall ahead. His presence goes utterly unannounced.

There's no light creeping out from the high window, or through the slats of the internal access way. The discreet sound of footsteps are kept to a minimum, but aren't quiet enough that it wouldn't catch the attention of the dogs that plague this building. The occasional querying yip and scuffle makes him think he should leave the way he came, but ultimately he stays. He wouldn't have come here if he didn't think he could stay, talk his way into staying, or at least, survive some inevitable altercation.

But just in case, he's raided the mini-fridge. Water bottles open, drank from, splashed on his hands enough to soak in his sleeves and collar. Fruit felt, bitten into, hungry without having yet hit starving. He's taken an apple with him as he reclines in one of the beds, boots still on, bed springs depressing beneath his weight with a soft complaint.

In here, it's not raining. It's quiet, even, except for the occasional chorus of dog noises, which is in its own way relaxing. Cosy. He could fall asleep if his instincts didn't dictate otherwise.

He works on finishing the apple, an arm folded back under his head. ]

[infomodder]

[Will Graham is a Mess. More so than usual. Every day April is gone feels like a month, with each second vividly flashing behind his eyes. Neon lights that announce loss and grief. Neon lights he tries to drown out with more liquor. It works. For a bit. Then the lights are brighter than they were hours before, and his head throbs, and the dogs demand him get his shit together long enough to let him outside.

It's a cycle he breaks up with eating (very little) and showering (though no shaving) and with thoughts of fishing that never come to pass. He turns into a dog at times and curls up with adult men, or the other dogs, or a tortoise, and he never wants to talk about it. He always wants to drink.

He kinda wants to find Hannibal and stab him. Punch him. Start something violent that will likely end in at least one death, one possible rebirth. Again and again. It's a bad idea. If he tracked Hannibal down like this, he knows what would happen, and it's nothing good.

He's on his way to the kitchen when he passes the stairs. Stops. Takes a step back and looks up them, leaning forward to sniff. An odd gesture on a man, to be sure, odder still when he takes a few steps up and continues sniffing.

Now that's interesting.

He looks down at Ziggy, the cat moving her tail side to side. She knows his temptations and judges him for them.]

At least I'm out of bed.

[Justifying himself to a cat. What a world.

He has no idea what shape Sylar is in and decides better safe than sorry, always. So he ascends the staircase with a six pack of cold beer and a pocketknife in his back pocket. Just in case. Things happen.

How polite it would be to knock! Alas, that politeness had not been extended Will's way, so he's just returning like for like. Will eases the door open, rapping his knuckles on it to announce that the opening was a thing, and stands there, beer in hand, a mess of several day old plaid shirt and jeans, bare foot and bearded, hair a tangled disaster.

Before he can say anything, a small, ugly dog runs in between his legs, prancing like she's the most beautiful princess there ever was. Will watches as she makes a beeline to their guest and therefore New Friend, wasting no time in jumping up beside him, all weird smiles and tail wagging, sniffing his boots to properly find out everything she can right now since his butt is face down.]

[bosewicht]

[ At the sound of the door opening-- well, outwardly, Sylar's repose doesn't change, save for maybe one lifted knee drawing in tighter in case he needs to spring out of his position. His arm beneath his head remains where it is. He takes another bite of his apple, though even that pauses at the pitter-patter sound of dog paws and when the truly ugly animal hops up onto the bed with him.

Swallows his mouthful. Turns a look to Will Graham, and the beer he has in hand.

Inwardly, his heart rate amped up on automatic and his senses are keyed forward to the possibility of anyone else following him up. He doesn't quite relax immediately, but he does lazily go about sitting up, back finding bed frame, keeping apple core off the sheets. ]

You ever feel like life's just spinning out of control?

[ --is a little jokey, because boy, does Will look it, and that's coming from the guy with nine fingers who doesn't shower regularly either. ]

text;

[pyrogue]

Hey, how's Matches doing?

[infomodder]

She's taking a nap in the sun.

[And he sends a picture after that, which is cuter than it has any right to be, especially since Matches is curled up with a fluffy black cat.]

[pyrogue]

That's adorable. How is she so cute?

text;

[itistolaugh]

is jeff at home

[infomodder]

jeff hasn't been at home for a couple weeks now

[itistolaugh]

ok so
so maybe he just moved
and forgot to mention it
and turned off his phone
and stopped going to work

[ text ]

[ghoulking]

Will,
I'd like an opinion regarding Dr. Chilton's abilities as a psychiatrist. Do you know how he is, professionally?

[infomodder]

I do. He's been my psychiatrist before.

[ghoulking]

Is he any good, or should I look somewhere else?

[aggressiveapathy]

So there's a dog ambassador.

Can one of ours be deputy?

[infomodder]

Why not all of them?

[aggressiveapathy]

Oh my god, honey. You know I would never make them all get jobs.

Who will nap?

voice;

[heisenbitch]

[ There's a pause. It's a pause that barely stretches longer than a second, but it's a pause suffocated with uncertainty. At least from where Jesse stands. ]

Hey, uh— It's, um. It's Jesse. Call me back when you, y'know. Get back from fishin' or whatever.

[ Another uncertain pause. Jesse lingering on the other end of the line, chewing on his thumbnail, wondering if he should say more. Impossible to work out what to say when there's god only knows how many years of history between this Will Graham guy and himself that Jesse has no recollection of.

The line clicks dead. ]

[infomodder]

[Well well well, Will listens to this particular message twice, deciphering vibe from reality. Trying to, anyway. He won't know for certain until he calls back.

He calls back about an hour later, voice the casual sort of friendly that doesn't hold expectation, doesn't demand immediate response in the same line of feeling.]

Wish I was fishing. Been pulling weeds out all day. What's up?

[That particular question sounds a little Wrong from this mouth, but not in a forced or negative way. Just a little not his thing — more Jesse's, so he's using it.]

[quickfingers]

yo will
[invite.jpg]

[infomodder]

did you do that all by yourself?
it looks great

THIS COMMENT IS NOT REAL, I AM JUST SAVING EVERYONE FROM FUTURE SCROLLING

[itistolaugh]

text; sorry about the gifs (not sorry)

[itistolaugh]

YOU'RE INVITED!!

to a ~*~*~SURPRISE BIRTHDAY PARTY~*~*~

for DR. JONATHAN CRANE!!


October 20th
Wayne Enterprises Conference Room
7PM - ?????

BORING CONVERSATIONS!


OLD MUSIC NOBODY CAN DANCE TO!


PRETENTIOUS JUDGMENT OF OTHERS!


BOOKS??? (no cats)(maybe a witch)


SNACKS!


& BRING A FRIEND!!!
C U THERE ;)