infomodder | ic contact 2 mask or menace

[An eyebrow lifts and he shakes it head like it's no big deal. Really isn't. Despite everything (because of everything), Will enjoys cooking. He enjoys knowing what he's eating, enjoys being able to give honest answers to anyone who asks what they're eating...no skin off his back, to whip something up for Jeff's return home.]

Only if you want to. I'm not here to press.

[But food made with love is totally a big deal.]

I know but. I haven't exactly been upfront about any of this and. I dunno. Maybe some of this is my fault. [Yup, kind of blaming himself now for helping fund a psychopath, even if he's responsible for about 0.1% of it all.]

[0.1% or less.

But Will takes it on board seriously anyway. He's torn between thinking Jeff's just feeling guilty and that whatever happened, someone put the idea in his head this was his fault.]

What?

[A simple question, no undercurrent of anger, of danger. Will knows why certain recent events have happened. No one can convince him otherwise at this point.]

[He pauses as he stares down at his barely touched coffee, suddenly having second thoughts about even discussing this. Right now he'd rather not think about this guy, and here he is trying to discuss him. But talking about these things helped, right? Maybe getting this off his chest would help stop him feeling like pure shit.]

White... He's, or was my client. I got paid fat stacks to do crap I'm not entirely proud of just to keep him happy. I practically enabled a guy who, at this point, I think we can safely label as a mass murderer. [Still not looking up from his drink, like a kid with a guilty conscience ready to be berated, not even darning to make eye contact.]

[Pure shit is right. Jeff starts spilling and Will's face changes, at first like he's just smelled and tasted something particular foul. Beyond the fact White killed him, even, a more lingering sort of sickening. Had Jeff's portion of rent, the money he used to help fuel this house of Will's, come from Walter? Awful. But he keeps his mirror lean of Jeff, save the sudden tension in his shoulders. Tension that leaks out at such a label.]

You could say that anyone who makes or deals drugs is a mass murderer.

[Implying a commonness, a less than special quality to the man who killed him? Of course he is. For the moment, that's all he has to say. Continue, sir.]

[Just leave him here to die. A second time.]

Yeah. I guess you could say that. So you know what he does for a living, huh? [Not exactly the kind of info Jeff really wanted others knowing about, but this is Will and Will somehow finds out everything ~~because he's a dirty infomodder~~.]

[tbh]

Yes. [Will turns to lean his back against the counter, elbows propped against it as he stretches his legs out and crosses them at the ankle. He's apparently at ease discussing such gruesomeness in the kitchen, go figure.] Didn't investigate it myself. Knew someone who was looking into a certain product. Before he even got here, actually. The timing didn't match at first, but when confronted on it, he didn't...deny.

[A sigh, like the weight of the world's resting uncomfortably on his shoulders. Which doesn't really fit the rest of him, all relaxed.]

Was it worth it? All the money. What he paid you.

[He's asking seriously here; money drives people to do such terrible and great things. Does that pay off what Jeff's gone through? Does that even begin to cover the price?]

Edited 2015-12-31 03:40 (UTC)

[Some small development has been made. Jeff can now look up from his coffee mug, mostly because he really wants to drink that coffee. And so he sips, and then almost instantly cringes at Will's line of questioning.]

Jeezus, Will. The hell kind of a question is that? Was it worth being shot in the head? [The briefest moment of disgusted sneering, and then, flatly:] Yes.

[He's married to April Ludgate. He knows how sometimes sarcasm can come in packages that seem nothing like sarcasm at first. He'd always been aware of it, of course he had, he knew a wide range of people, but April served to up his game in recognizing that. However...money is money. And some people really do want nothing more than big, fat stacks of cash. To sit on, to use, whatever. With that thrown in the mix, it's difficult for Will to tell if Jeff is employing some fantastic sarcasm or actually being serious.

So. He pours himself a cup of coffee and in a tone just as flat, almost as if Jeff is speaking through Will's voice...]

Abigail's gone. [Taking it black, too, watching the steam rise before he looks back at Jeff, face completely neutral, void of any emotion at all.] Only been a couple days, but that's what you've missed.

[That's the thing with coming from a land of comedy. Sometimes it's impossible to switch it off. Sometimes it's easier to joke about bullets to the head than think back to the trauma and fear of actually receiving a hole in the head. Jeff's out of his league with it all, with the murder and drug dealing and money laundering, but he's still involved, tempted as he is by the promise of money. Staying alive would've been better than getting rich, but he's alive now, and eventually he'll shove that memory of death aside and try not to think of it ever again. Life moves on. People come and go.]

Shit. [His shoulders slump and his head lowers, deflating visibly because jesus fucking christ he's an asshole. He'd been so focused on his own drama that he hadn't even thought to ask about the others in the household.] I'm sorry, I didn't know... [I, still about him. This shouldn't be about him.] If you need anything...

Edited 2015-12-31 04:15 (UTC)

No, no. Abigail and I had time together we wouldn't get elsewhere. We had the chance for real closure. That's all I need.

[He shakes his head as he says it, a contented smile spreading across his face before he takes the first sip of coffee. Absolutely relaxed, missing any of that put upon flat, dull tone. Will speaks of Abigail with nothing but unadulterated love he couldn't cover up even if he tried, and he doesn't want to. None of this is for show; Jeff's getting a look at a sincere, and sincerely grateful, loving Will Graham.

In the midst of tumultuous feelings brought upon by a bullet to the head, the first and most important thing Will can establish is that he's still Will. He's still him, here, he's still Will Graham and even if Will Graham sometimes unleashes the Jeff Hulk to save innocent animal lives, Will Graham is a friend. That is constant, consistent, and he believes Jeff could use that stability. He also knows it may help drive their bond even further, for Jeff, whether he realizes it or not. But to do so out of concern and care and real friendship isn't a terrible manipulation, is it?]

Look... [Switching gears, from Abigail back to the present. To the future.] ...whatever shit you had going on with White before, that didn't...that didn't lead to what happened to me, if that's what you were thinking. That was all set in motion [he waves a hand] months ago, not by you. And I'm not, I'm not innocent in this, either. Didn't help him out for money but I didn't...wasn't some bystander who had no idea what they were doing, what was going on, what it could all really mean. If he made you feel otherwise, or if that's just you worried it might be true, it isn't. It's not. And what he did to you, that's not you, either. That's all him. He's lost what few marbles he had left, to put it politely. So if you wanna tell me all about you and White, that's fine, but whatever went on between you two...didn't lead to this. Nothing that happened, Jeff, not a bit of it is your fault.

[Despite Will's occasional disapprovals of Jeff's life choices, despite the fact he purposely summons the hulk against Jeff's wishes, and even despite the gratuitous infomodding, Will is still a friend. Possibly the best. He's the one Jeff turns to for help, the one Jeff texts first when there's anything to share and the one he's most willing to share his expensive alcohol with. It's because of this that Winger feels guilty, not in spite of it, like Will's the only person out there that still tugs at Jeff's moral compass enough to have him questioning that maybe he could be using his time more productively than helping fund drug dealers. He struggles to keep eye contact because he doesn't want to risk seeing disappointment, doesn't want to feel like he's failed in being a good companion. Being liked is all he really wants, just having someone there to occasionally pat him on the head and tell him he's a good boy and how well he's done.

He doesn't want to be the one creating more shit for Will while Will's recovering from his own issues, and while he's dealing with losing a family member. Goddamn that empathetic asshole for dealing with even that so well, optimistic about the time they'd had together rather than pessimistic about how it's been taken from him. Will, stop being such a great guy.

The words the follow get Jeff's gaze dropping again, his coffee placed on the counter as his head lowers, and maybe, just maybe there might be the chance to spot a glassy sheen on his eyes as his lips press together in a thin line. But then he's doing his best to cover for it, and what better way to hide than on Will? Without much warning he's clearly the gap between them and bearing down on his friend for an all encompassing bear hug, tight like he never wants to let go, face burying into Will's shoulder.]

I lost control. [Shut up, that's not a waver in his voice.]

[An all encompassing bear hug Will doesn't hesitate to return, with the same fierce intimacy he'd give to his wife. He stands in a kitchen being held by a man quite taller than him and doesn't shy away, doesn't instinctively recoil like Jeff's two seconds from an attempted disemboweling. Will's hands move to Jeff's shoulders, grounding and very much real, and if there's any suspicion he's doing this simply to hide, that never comes across. Sometimes people just need a hug. Sometimes they just need a place to hide, too, and far be it from Will to deny Jeff that much.]

No, you didn't. [There isn't a waver in Will's voice.] It was taken from you. In small, gradual increments. Then completely, all at once.

[If he sounds like the voice of experience with this, good. Perhaps there is some projection going on, but it's all very personal to Will.]

That's what'll eat you alive, if you try to unravel where and when everything happened. Kill you more than a bullet to the head.

[Kill you on the inside.]

[He doesn't mean to get Will's shoulder wet, he really doesn't, but that's a thing that's happening as Jeff keeps in that embrace for as long as he can. Might be nice to just stand like this for the rest of the day.

There's nodding, judging by the shift of his head against Will (or maybe he's just using that time to wipe his eyes on his bro) but he's not entirely sure what to say to that. Will sounds like he speaks from experience, but maybe that's just Will; the empathetic guru who knows way too much. Perhaps it's not experience but understanding that has him getting it so well.]

Sorry.

[Finally muttered as he decides to speak. Vague and muffled and not even entirely certain what he's sorry for, except EVERYTHING.]

[If his shirts aren't covered with dog hair, they have drool or bits of fish or other food items on them, or dust, or dirt. Jeff's tears are really not out of place and are probably giving his shirt a fresh, impromptu bath it is eternally grateful for. Meanwhile, Will keeps a firm, stable grip, making no move to back away...and isn't expecting that at all. So he squeezes him a little tighter before one hand pats Jeff's back like, seriously, bro, it's okay.]

You're good. [He mumbles in place of anything else. It's easier to just forgive instead of put up protests about how Jeff has nothing to be sorry for, to wrap both of those in one go without making it super obvious. If Jeff and Will weren't good, Jeff would know. Perhaps brutally.] Glad you're back. We missed you.

[Dying sucks. Reviving sucks. Crying sucks. Realising you're not totally infallible really, really sucks. This is, above all else, a knock to Jeff's confidence, pride and apathy. Not caring about something doesn't mean it won't happen. Thinking his immune to getting murdered doesn't mean he is, and possibly it's not an entirely bad lesson to learn for the future.

He sniffles, lifts his head, chin propped up on Will's shoulder in the damp patch he's left and still keeps his hold, because he may be done with totallynotactuallycrying, but he sure as hell isn't done with hugs.]

Missed you more, buddy. [Okay so maybe he can be encouraged to let go. Eventually. Maybe. When he's not busy thinking deeply.] Y'know I've been thinking... maybe I need to work on my powers a little more. [Because can a bullet kill hulk Jeff? He's not sure, but he'd sure as hell feel safer with the concept of super strength on demand. Shit, why didn't he just shoot Walt in the eye with a paintball?! That might have at least helped.]

[Carefully, so carefully, Will moves his hands to Jeff's shoulders so he can lean back. Give them some space, but not because he's had enough of getting all tear-stained or wants to cut contact, no. He just hadn't been expected that and is so pleased to hear Jeff's response, he wants to see the man's face. Wants Jeff to see Will's, the arched brow, the muted smile. A tortoise in Heropa owes its life to Jeff. But, thank God, Jeff learning how to really control the beefy beast within for his own reasons? A breath of fresh air and something Will is definitely going to encourage, wanting Jeff to know he has his full support in this endeavor.]

That's a good idea. [Shoulder squeeze for his best buddy, yep.] You need any help, let me know. We'll find a way to get you on top of them.

[Some people fear their powers. Some love them, some hate them, some have had them all their lives. For Will, there had always been a mix...until he'd just accepted them.]

[The slow parting is acceptable, and gives Jeff just enough time to quickly lift an arm to scrub a sleeve at his eyes. He's not ashamed of those tears but he's done with them, he's had his moment and he feels better for it. Now all he needs is more coffee, Will's amazingly cooked breakfast and a whole lot of sleep. All the sleep. Sleep of the recently dead but not dead now.

Will's reaction is encouraging, like it's definitely something Jeff should be doing.]

If you ever got the time... I dunno anything about how to make stuff like powers work or not work. Not exactly something I'm used to. [He needs all the help he can get, and he definitely needs someone there throwing compliments at him. Will is a pro at bringing out the hulk.] Whatever. Maybe we can sort something out later. I kinda just wanna sleep for the next few days.

I've got some experience. We'll figure it out.

[Boy does he ever, both with the whole inner beast aspect and getting powers down. If they run into anything new or difficult to understand, there are people he can call. Ask, meet up with, whatever is necessary. They're fortunately stuck with quite a few others who are familiar with powers, so. Push comes to shove, they can ask the entire Network and put it all out there.

Will snags up a bit of fruit from that garnished plate, popping it into his mouth while the other grabs the plate itself and points to the kitchen table.]

Or you wanna do breakfast in bed?

[As if April and Will don't do the same thing. He couldn't care less if the people in their house eat in their rooms. That's their space but, really, before anything can become a sad pile attracting pests and growing diseases all over the place, a raccoon will have noticed it and brought dishes to the kitchen. Raccoon, human, whatever, it'll be taken care of. It's fine.

Jeff's state of being is always more important than dishes anyway.]

[His gaze flickers between the table and the direction of his room, considering it only briefly before deciding a definite;] Table.

[Will can carry the plate, Jeff is bringing his own coffee as he slinks into a chair, huddled forward and tired looking. He's still not hungry, but he knows he should at least attempt to eat something before going into hibernation.]

It's early, you should go back to bed, or whatever it is you do at this time.

[Carry that plate he does, snagging up a fork and spoon to prop up on the edge so Jeff can choose whatever tickles his fancy and go from there. He's grabbing up coffee for himself when those words hit and he has a moment of wavering. Perhaps that's the most polite way Jeff can think of to request being alone, and if Will refused, he'd be pushing the line. The last thing Will wants is to do that, not in this situation. While loneliness has its drawbacks...Jeff knows where he is. Knows this house is literally crawling with life, he doesn't have to be alone. He can knock on a door and find company, he can whistle or cluck his tongue and have furry companions other than Sharkbait ready to shower him in affection.]

Yeah. Need a shower.

[He opts for with a nod, taking a sip from that slightly-busted mug as he moves past Jeff. One hand goes to Jeff's shoulder as he does so, a friendly, supportive squeeze before he's gone. You know where to find us if you need anything.]

[Jeff's torn between never wanting to be alone again, and having his own time to process everything. Will's right in thinking that he'll never truly be alone in a home like this, and it's a comforting enough thought for Jeff to nod towards his friend, accepting the departure and being grateful for it. This breakfast will serve the opposite purpose from normal, used for winding down rather than waking up, Jeff already decided that he'll be dragging Sharkbait into bed for warmth and comfort when he eventually attempts to sleep.]

Thanks. [Mumbled as his gaze lifts towards Will during that shoulder squeeze. A simple thank you doesn't seem like enough, but it's the only thing that he can offer right now.

And as Will retreats, Winger turns his attention to the food before him, picking at it idly in silence until he'll eventually choose to drag his way to his own bedroom.]

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