[Will stares (the answer is yes, death can be brought on at the nylon of a leash) at the new addition for a few seconds before he smiles. Not his strained usual, far more amused than that.]

But you don't have to do that. [He finally takes a swig before setting his mug aside so he can slowly, carefully, like an old man with many joint problems, start collecting Mike's tossed about things.] I'm...not gonna hurt you. Never had a reason to. Don't think you're gonna hurt me, either.

[Not at all a slight against Mike, not calling him a coward or anything negative. No. Just an observation because...]

Not gonna give you a reason to hurt me.