[Ah, the plot thickens. And sickens. Always getting worse. Will pulls a face, nods once, and gets up abruptly. But not to leave, of course not. Instead, he goes to the spot where Jeff maybe thinks his secret stash of hard liquor is safe, pulls out a bottle, and pours two glasses. Full. Nothing half-assed, not right now. It's all fluid like Will doesn't even have to guess where things are, because he is a filthy fucking infomodder who just knows things.

When he comes back, he hands Jeff his glass and moves to sprawl out next to him like they're both teenagers at a sleepover about to share secrets or, like, swap Pokemon on their Gameboys.]

Everybody fucks up. Usually, fuck ups don't result in getting murdered, but... [A half-hearted shrug. Shit happens, good shit and bad shit, all of it happens. If it doesn't happen here, it happens in another world.] You talked to Frederick about any of it already?