[There's a pause. With almost comical timing, Will tears his eyes from Sharkbait's wigglytough self, staring up at Jeff with sheer confusion. The muted sort Will always displays, of course, but it's quite obvious to anyone who knows him well he's having a moment where he doesn't understand something (or anything) and can't keep it off his face. A moment where the gears of his mind spin damn near out of control as he attempts to make sense of it...and then he actually laughs, running a hand over his face.]

Jesus Christ. [Cut up by the laughter and muffled by his hand but still easily understood. The groaned sigh isn't burdened or displeased; sounds more like a noise of relief. It's good to laugh once in a while.] That was...that was a turn of phrase, Jeff. I don't actually. I wouldn't...

[Will's corporal punishment is lethal, so. No. He'd like to not have to unleash the wrath of the lamb ever again. Especially not one someone he cared about.]

You aren't my type. You don't have to worry about...that. From me.

[His type is April. That's why he put a ring on her. Eat that, Hannibal.]