infomodder | ic contact 2 mask or menace

yea i gues

[Mike feels hella weird about it, but he does show up an hour later, a box in one hand and a leash in the other. He's dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans and sporting a new-ish haircut, one of those longer buzzcuts.

Mike slinks meekly up to the front door, all sorts of uncertain about his being here. At Will's house. Where Will lives. Where Will's family lives. Where Will's dogs live. This is just wrong, man.

Little Fluffy Shithead gives no shits about any of that, though. She investigates her new surroundings with vigor, straining at the end of the leash, tail up, ears perked. All the things must be sniffed, some things must be pawed at, and something waaay over there must be told off with loud small dog barking.

BARK BARK BARK. YOU OVER THERE. YEAH YOU. COME OVER HERE. I'LL FUCK YOU UP. BARK BARK BARK.

Mike just shuts his eyes and knocks on the door.]

[Slowly, a small group of raccoons appear at the front window. All sneakypaws and noses pressed to the glass, watching their New Friends with curiosity. Why does the little one bark so much? That just sets the dogs in the house off, who join the furry bunch soon enough, all wagging tails and barking right back. At least they seem to be doing so out of greeting more than anything else?

And then there's Will, throwing the door open in quick timing, looking down at Little Fluffy Shithead with the absolute biggest smile on his face. Like. Men coming back from war should look at their families with this smile, or a winning lottery ticket, or a brand new car. Nope, not Will. That's all for Little Fluffy Shithead, and Mike shortly after, once he's gotten a good look at the barking menace. He doesn't even stop the smiling to look confused over the haircut because holy shit dog! Old roomie!]

Look at your little princess. [Only Will, man.] Good to see you both! Wanna come in? Just put some coffee on, if you'd like.

Edited 2016-01-17 23:09 (UTC)

[Will opens the door, Mike opens his eyes, and... Mike may have forgotten just how excited Will Graham gets when a new dog is around. He's practically glowing. Like the dog is his newborn child or something. Look at your little princess. Dude.

Is his bedroom just covered in dog beds now? Dog beds all across the floor, dog beds on the furniture, dog beds in the closet...

Meanwhile, Princess Shithead is a bit distracted. She's noticed the crowd gathering at the window and has switched from barking her fool head off at something down the road to barking her fool head off at the raccoons and dogs. Mike finally spots them, too. And jumps a little where he stands. Oh, Jesus, there they are. The wild ass animals. Look at their little grabby hands and their little burglar faces...]

Uh... [What did Will say again? Too many thoughts on how he shouldn't be here and how strange dogkind's #1 fan is and raccoons, wildlife...

But then Little Fluffy Shithead realizes the door is open and she's hauling furry butt trying to get in despite the leash holding her back. Tail going a mile a minute, demanding to see her audience.

Mike looks at Will again. Coffee. That's what he said. He just put coffee on. Mike shrugs reluctantly. Yeah, sure, maybe, if it's okay, for like a minute or whatever?]

[Aw hell, look at her go. Glowing is right, even if her barking is loud and high-pitched, doesn't matter. New dog friend, Mike Parker finally coming around, Will has every reason to smile like he means it (ooh ooh ooh).

He steps back inside enough to make room for them, that mess of animals now at the threshold to the living room, dogs and raccoons watching from a safe distance. Waiting to see if these two are actually coming inside before making nice with official greetings.]

It's fine. They've been socialized well enough. You could take her off the leash. [Unless she's not housebroken or eats furniture, but he figures Mike knows what he means, that the audience may be a mess but it's not a mean one. He nods to a group of hooks on the wall, usually used for coats...there is a coat! One coat. The rest of them are overtaken by leashes. Like dog heaven.] Didn't have any problems finding the place, did you?

[Little Fluffy Shithead hustles right on in, Mike trailing behind her. At Will's prompting, he bends down, unsnaps the leash, and gives 'his' dog an awkward pat on the head. The Princess ignores him, making a beeline for the crowd of dogs and raccoons as soon as she's granted her freedom. She stops just short of them, tail still wagging, tongue hanging out of her mouth, gutsy and confident as can be - and ready for the butt sniffing to commence.

God, dogs.

Mike glances at the coat rack and stuffs the leash in his pocket instead.]

No. No problems.

[Don't mind him, just gonna scoot around to the side of Will so there's both a man and a small dog between him and the raccoon squad.]

Oh, this is... for you? Christmas present. Late.

[He hands the package over without taking his eyes off them critters.]

[If Will notices this dastardly tactic of Mike's, using him and a tiny dog as a means of protection, he doesn't let on. Just sticks to the spot he's been given, movements slow enough Mike can easily keep his barrier. The fuzzy horde, of course, takes to her like their New Best Friend, all happy to exchange butts and none of the bigger ones careless to her size. What a joyous time.

He stops in the threshold of the kitchen at that, though, eyebrows raising. Transylvania didn't happen. He hopes Mike can forgive him for not bringing back something from the vampire motherland.]

Yeah? [Will takes it gently, like he's waiting for Mike to pull it back and laugh it off. A moment of staring, turning it over in his hands follows. Then Will glances back to them critters and moves into the kitchen finally, putting the package down on the counter to start opening. The coffee pot is full, in plain view. As are two cups, if Mike wants to help himself.] When'd you get the haircut? Looks good.

[And so Mike sidles safely to the kitchen and Little Fluffy Shithead proves herself to be more critter-friendly than people-friendly.

Mike notes the location of the coffee pot but heads for a chair instead. Just gonna sink into it, take a load off first.

He'll live without vampire motherland memorabilia.]

While back. Couple weeks. [He runs his fingers through his hair. It still feels weird. Too light. Like his head might float away or something.

The package contains one bag of weed, one bag of bacon-flavored dog treats, and one map of Virginia. The map has several spots in what looks like wooded areas, or at least far from road areas, circled in red. Not terribly exciting gifts but gifts all the same.]

How have you been?

[He forgot to ask that while he was texting, but it's just as well since now he can stare straight at Will while asking that question. How have you been after your little unexplained moment last month, bro? Are you okay?? You've been inside, that's a good sign!]

[A bag of weed Will withdraws while biting his lip to prevent a laugh. A bag of weed he carefully places just out of sight...on top of the fridge. That'll be a real treat when April gets home. Dog treats obviously get put out on the counter, though, no one with a badge coming in would find dog treats suspicious or worth opening. Bitten lip turns to a smile as he squints at the map. What is this, a treasure hunt? Memorable landmarks? A collection of super awesome tire swings to be found if one goes sniffing properly? Whatever it may be, Will looks at the map with a more muted sort of fondness, but fondness just the same. Mike might as well have given him plane tickets to a far away location, or blocks of gold, or another dog.]

What? [He looks up, map held so gently in his hands like it's a baby (Mike could give him anything and he'd love it, he may pick up on that), though it's rhetorical. Just filling the silence.] Good. Just dealing with the holiday stress. More people involved, more...drama. April and I didn't make our trip. Sorry I couldn't bring you anything back.

[Sorry he's a failure, but Mike surely isn't surprised by now.]

Thanks. For all this. Especially the...

[He waves in the direction of the fridge top. You done good, Mike.]

That's okay. [Mike doesn't look the least bit bothered by the fact that Will couldn't bring him back something from a trip he didn't get to take.]

And you're welcome. Had me a little worried, the way you were talkin'... typin'. Holidays must have been really rough. [He shakes his head. Sure does suck when the holidays are so rough you threaten to go hobo.]

[He glances briefly at the map Will is cradling but volunteers no information on what it's for. Treasure hunt mystery gift.]

Sooo... [Drops his hands in his lap, swings his feet absently, casually checks out Will's kitchen.] Boat tours, huh?

[Really rough is an underestimation, judging by the way Will's face falls. It's brief but quite present. Especially for anyone who'd lived with Will before. He doesn't hide it behind that mystery map fast enough, Glum & Grim wiped away by the time he sets it down and moves to pour them both a cup of Joe.]

Boat tours. Not too social, plenty of time offshore... [But he goes for the topic that doesn't have him all Sourpuss McGee. Also probably not difficult for Mike to pick up on.] Man's gotta have something to do, right? Staying in one place for long isn't appealing. Too constrictive.

[Hobo life best life.]

[Aw, shit, that face Will makes... Mike was all for respecting Will's privacy, not sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong, but the Glum and the Grim all over and then just yeah, okay, boat tours... Shit. Will didn't just have to deal with the imPort equivalent of in-laws or a shortage of palm trees to use as Christmas trees or whatever over the holidays.

Mike watches him pour them coffee, appreciates that coffee is coming, but he says nothing. Nothing about boat tours, nothing about staying in one place not being appealing, not a damn thing. When Will turns to give him his coffee, surprise, Mike's not sitting anymore - no, he's standing right there, staring at him. And Will's not just being stared at, Will's being given the look. The flat, expectant, you're full of crap look.]

Somebody's gonna tell me what happened. I'll ask around. Somebody's gonna say—

[Little Fluffy Shithead bursts into the kitchen, makes a happy lap around their legs, and then runs back out again.

Mike looks away, sighs, looks back. Where was he? Oh, yeah.]

Somebody's gonna say what happened.

[Surprise indeed! Will shows it, too. Subtly, of course, but he clutches the mug a little tighter and his eyes widen a bit. Until Mike starts talking, at least, ridding him of any real physical surprise. No. He's too busy on the mental end, finding this brazen approach far more polite than it is rude, eyes narrowing not out of anger or intimidation but to return to something normal. Even Little Fluffy Shithead's appearance doesn't draw his attention away.]

So you can hear it from somebody else or get it from the horse's mouth, is that it? [Far, far too amused for someone who's offended. Will isn't, and he carefully puts that mug in Mike's hands.] That's good. The only other person who'd be able to talk about it is a deranged liar. Do me and yourself a favor, Mike.

[He smiles. It's as fake as a mannequin's hair.]

Stay away from Walter White.

[Will's not offended, but Mike's expression is suddenly guarded, anyway. How about that.]

Walt White.

[Walt? Walt. Who calls him Walt? People close to him in some capacity, in Will's experience. Perhaps Mike is just going for the easy nickname, but it still strikes Will in a manner quite unpleasant, and his face shows as much.]

S'what I said.

[Mike's upper lip twitches slightly and he takes a better hold of his mug of coffee. Wouldn't want to drop it, have it shatter on the floor.]

Well, what'd he do?

[Please don't. Will can't fix cups any more.]

You know him enough to call him Walt. [His voice is a growl, and he turns to grab up his own coffee like having something physical to do will keep this conversation from going exactly where he suspects it's headed.] What do you think he did, Mike?

[Mike flinches at that growl and backs up a step, clutching his coffee closer and looking for a moment like he expects to be struck.]

I don't know. He never told me anything, either.

[Sure, he figured White was crazy, maybe even dangerous crazy, but he never actually saw the dude do anything. He just talked that crazy talk a lot.]

[Serving as Will's cue to stay put, firmly grounded in place, his own mug held just as closely as Mike's. Getting closer or suddenly moving further away could be taken as bad signs. He doesn't enjoy people he actually cares about having that sort of fear about him (Hannibal being the exception).]

Some people like to pretend that if you die here, you'll come right back. Because it's happened to some of us. They ignore the fact imPorts have died and never returned. My home...has a bad track record with that. [Names aren't going to be given out, but he doubts Mike wants them anyway. Why care about people who are dead and gone, gone, gone?] Suppose that means I've broken the record, coming back from the dead. Not something I'd like to test out a second time.

[Mike goes on staring, still wary and increasingly confused. Will's talking but Mike can't be sure if he's telling him something or if they're just back to rotting until there's nothing left talk.

Maybe Will is trying to tell him what happened... in Will's own vague, complicated language. Mike goes with that theory and, after a moment, thinks he has the pieces put together.

Will died. Over the holidays. And White was the one who killed him. (Maybe in the study, with the candlestick.)

But Mike's not sure why that would bother Will so much. He already died once back home! Mike had kind of assumed after you've died once, future deaths are no biggie. Was he just worried he wouldn't come back, like the others from his world? Did it just hurt more?

Why would White kill him, anyway? Did Will do that cop thing and try to bust him? Mike doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to guess and be wrong and have Will that much more pissed at him.

Man, he shouldn't have pushed for an explanation in the first place...

What's he even supposed to say now?

Mike's quiet for a second longer, staring down into his coffee. He can still see the general shape of Will in front of him, can still move if Will moves... Except maybe this is one of those cases where he should just lean in and take the hit? Hard to say.

Mike shrugs one shoulder, shifts his weight from foot to foot. Making up his mind, he looks back and puts his mug down, then reaches behind him for the gun tucked into his waistband. He ejects the magazine and checks to make sure there isn't a round in the chamber before kneeling down, setting the cleared gun on the floor and sliding it over to Will.

He won't kill you, bro.

He stands back up slowly, his shoulder to Will, his gaze pointed straight ahead at Will's lovely kitchen.]

Didn't know.

[Mike is not going to be hit. Will lifts the mug to his lips...and then Mike reveals he's armed. Instead of dropping it, though, that mug stays exactly where it is, an eyebrow lifting being the only sign he realizes what's going on. That there's a weapon in play now.

A weapon that Mike doesn't point at him—this is progress.

The eyebrow goes up higher when Mike goes about getting rid of the bullets, kneeling. As high as it can when it comes to rest at his feet. That's the only time he looks away from Mike, when he hears the clatter stop and takes a second to make sure that, yes, there is a gun resting near him. His attention is back on Mike by the time he speaks, and Will stands in complete silence with that mug at his lips, still not having taken a sip yet, for a few long seconds before...]

Didn't know you brought a gun to my house. [There's no offense or horror. Just flat fact.] You always keep one on you wherever you go, huh?

Kinda have to.

[That's his life. Even here. Have to have that gun to flash so people don't mess with him. Might have been different if he'd gotten a cool power like fire. Could have made little fireballs in his hand or something, warned people that way. That would have been badass. But nope. Turns into a dog, moves stuff with his brain, drives people nuts. All or nothing powers.]

Oh.

[He tugs the leash out of his pocket, tosses it over so it lands by the gun. You could probably kill a man with a nylon dog leash. Maybe.]

[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.

[Mike watches Will gather his stuff out of the corner of his eye and then faithfully goes back to giving eye contact to the kitchen appliances.]

Didn't mean 'cause of you. Meant 'cause of people out there. [He tips his head in the direction they came. Outside people.] Always keep one on me 'cause of people out there. And just didn't think to leave it in the car.

I wouldn't hurt you no matter what you did. Your family, either. [Well.] Except Jeff. I won't kill him, but I might bite him someday. You know, while I'm a dog.

[Will has just put things back on the counter in easy reach of Mike when the exception of Jeff hits. He actually laughs. Not at Mike, never. Amusement, he's in on the joke. Not really, he has no idea what's brought them together exactly, but. "In" enough to appreciate it.]

If Jeff comes limping back with a dog bite in need of treatment, that's all he'll get. [No secrets will be spilled, he's got Mike's back there. Assuming Mike hasn't been up front about that particular power with Jeff, of course. If he has been then. Well. Jeff will be singing a different tune when he limps back, no doubt.] I hope Jeff living here won't discourage you from stopping by more often now you know where to go.

[Where he can get away from those damn outside people.]

[Mike's a little relieved when Will laughs. So Will understands why a man might want to turn into a dog and bite Jeff Winger. He's aware of Jeff's... Jeffness. That's good.

But then it comes to the other subject. Mike scuffs his foot against the floor.]

I'm... gonna be busy for a while. Gonna... have a lot to do. [Can't stop by, super busy!!] What do you think about... lookin' after the dog for me?

[Pretends him walking out with that dog was ever an option in an attempt to distract Will. Look, Will, a dog in need!]

ic contact 2 mask or menace

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