infomodder | ic contact 2 mask or menace

[Well now.

There's a pause, long enough to let it be known Will's thinking. What is Rincewind expecting, he wonders. Offense? Does he want Will to be horrified that he could ever believe this had happened? Or perhaps confusion, confusion about what and where these accusations were coming from. He definitely shouldn't respond with some off the cuff Are you phoning me because you're afraid of me? despite that thought running through his head. It's only natural for a human being who has some sense of sanity or self-preservation to not delight in private meetings with folks they may view as murderously dangerous, though there's a barb in that for Will. If this is the case, did Rincewind not already realize he was somewhat safe? It's like...he sends a friend some gift baskets and then nobody understands why and they think he's just being a son of a bitch and where is Hannibal when he needs him (no).]

What about it?

[Yes that's what Rincewind gets in response: acceptance of the accusations and an invitation to talk.]

It's - [a long pause.] You mean it's true?

[a fresh wave of thick, roiling misery washes over him. Rincewind's not sure what he was expecting in the first place, and thus part of being so blunt to begin with - better to just get it out, he'd thought. Heave the whole thing off him and hope that lessened the weight against his chest.

The wizard's dismayed to find breathing still just as pained. His voice is small, helpless and horrified.]

Why?

[That's not the voice he ever wanted to get out of Rincewind. The extremely mild pang of something that could grow into guilt is ignored, his own voice calm, stable, almost bored.]

Are you asking for yourself or him?

[The answers are the same either way; he'd just like to know.]

What the hell kind of question is that? For me, Will. I'm the one calling you, aren't I? I'm the one who's been - living with you.

[Sass isn't automatically rude, this is fine.]

A question that needed asking. [Gentle, void of any corrective tone.] It was for his own good as much as it was for mine.

[

]

What? Asking or - or mailing someone a pair of lungs? [a hysterical note tries to slip in there, but he clamps it down.]

Do the others even know?

[That bored-ish tone is starting to take on a hint of aggravation.]

What others? I wasn't aware you knew until just now.

[Aggravation not necessarily in Rincewind's direction; why does everyone have feisty tongues, loose lips, or both. Why Baltimore. Why his people like this.]

[he's not sure what's worse - what Will's admitted to doing, or that he can sound so bored and annoyed about it. That hits worse. Like Rincewind's wasting Will's time with his concern.]

April. Jeff. Did they know?

[Um obviously what's worse is CHILTON TELLING PEOPLE WHO LIVE WITH WILL ABOUT IT like duh]

Doesn't make for polite conversation. [Such vague, very mystery.] You really want the story over the phone?

[Seems almost rude.]

I won't be home for a while.

So... yes. I think that would be best. [give him something, Will. Anything. He's desperate for it.]

[At least he's still calling it "home" - good sign, he'll take it.]

Frederick and I— [should be having this conversation but he's abruptly stopped, the tension ready to crawl through the receiver and awkwardly settle on Rincewind's shoulder like some ugly, naked bird. Finally there's emotion injected into him. His words grow slower, not as if he has to so Rincewind will keep up but as a clear sign he's thinking as he speaks.] —we don't come from a very kind world. This sort of giving is not [He can't say abnormal because it definitely fucking is. If it wasn't, they'd be in more trouble. He'd probably be dead earlier on.] uncommon.

[Nailed it.]

And—I don't know what he told you, exactly, but they weren't just human organs as you said. They were Dorian's. He heals. It was...

[Sort of Dorian's idea. Kind of. Not the Chilton thing so much, but.

In case Rincewind is worried Will murdered people just to send organs, fret not. He only carved up Dorian Gray a few times. That's nice, right? That's a little less spooky, isn't it? No one's been murdered! By Will, anyway. Whoops.]

I figured that part out when I was knew he was involved. [sullenly.] Dorian told me about growing his heart back, when we first met.

[Rincewind's starting to wonder whether Dorian thought to check if it worked, first.]

Is that sort of cruelty being common where you're from meant to - meant to make it better, Will? You cut out Dorian's organs and sent them to a friend. For months! Why? Why? What was the point?

[Rincewind swallows, like he's trying not to be sick.]

Is he not actually your friend, is that it? You wanted to hurt him?

[Meant to make it better? Hah. Would "it's fine, back home I signaled a serial killer to go after him, which ended as horribly as it you could ever imagine and then some" make organ gift-giving better? Does anything make this better? Does the twisted idea of protection make it better? No, no. Bedelia would call him out on that quicker than she'd crush a bird. It was for his own good, he'd say, and she'd pop open a third bottle of wine to drink right out of it. But she'd know better (hah) than to ask in that way, too; there was no such thing as better, only worse. Sliding scales of horror. No crawling out once their brains had those claws in them. Once they knew how certain darkness could taste so sweet...

He wanted it to hurt. But that didn't negate a friendship. On the contrary, going through such effort showed that there were feelings there. Some not so pleasant, yes, but that was too much effort to expend on someone he didn't have a liking for in one way or another.

None of this he should say, most likely. Perhaps not even to Chilton. Not without the risk of Hannibal poisoning being brought up again. He misses Abigail. He could've been totally honest with her. She'd have given it to him straight and then they'd have gone to the shop or fishing or she'd have given him a haircut and there wouldn't have been some weird sense of seeing each other differently.

Will's quiet for a while. Long enough that Rincewind might be ready to prompt speech again, or just hang up, before he lets out an unmistakable sigh.]

I consider him a friend. [is this how hannibal felt for, like, four years] Nothing's meant to make it better. There isn't better or worse. It's already happened. It's done. No take backs. No changes. And hurt? That's part of a relationship. Relationships go both ways. So does hurt.

[There's a point, yes. As muddled as it's gotten and as conflicting as it's been. But there's also a lot that Rincewind doesn't know, and that's as close as Will gets to saying such. He doesn't want to spill details. He tries not to think about Certain Things more than he has to. It also seems rare for Chilton to have anyone this attached to him. The last thing Will wants to do is drive a wedge in that. So a bit of Captain Obvious, a bit vague...mix it til properly liquefied and set in the fridge to call for later pondering. Hopefully anything found won't be considered Fridge Horror but this is Will Graham and Baltimore; all their fridges are full of horror.]

He doesn't, after this. You've got to know that. I can't very well blame him. I'm not - I'm not the biggest expert on friendships, Will, but I can say with absolute certainty that evisceration isn't supposed to have a place in it.

[silence follows. He's not sure what he's trying to get across anymore. It all seems so bloody obvious that verbalizing it feels ridiculous. And Rincewind can't fathom why all he's getting back is a soupy, muddled mess of an explanation in return.

It's not enough, is the thing. He doesn't feel like he's any closer to understanding than he was when he called. Certainly not Will.]

...You aren't supposed to make your friends afraid. That's not the point of it. And the thing about hurt is, you can't claim it's inevitable when you go out and do it on purpose.

Remember that scar on my stomach? Sorta looks like a smile?

[Perhaps this seems abrupt, and perhaps describing a huge scar as a smile seems fucked up, but. The whole situation is fucked up. Might as well go whole hog with it, and honestly, that's the way he's thought of it for ages...can't help it, Hannibal's pretentiousness is septic.]

A friend gave me that gift. Same friend who gave me the one on my forehead.

[If Rincewind walks away thinking "Will is a little screwed up with relationships because reasons that gut him apparently" instead of asking after hurt, hurt from Chilton, well. Could be worse. Could be a lot worse. Better to come across as just extremely damaged but not about to get that as a forehead tat or go on a murder spree than get into Details.]

[silence on the other end. Rincewind remembers. He remembers the joke Will made about his hat, too. The mark it covers.

The man who did those - why would anyone continue to call someone like that a friend? Those aren't gifts; they're burdens. Memories you can't shelve away. Unwelcome reminders. Or they would be to Rincewind. What's been done to Will, that he can see them as anything different? Or wrap up something similar for the only man he shares a world with?

Terrible things, Rincewind guesses. Things, coward that he is, that he's loathe to ask after.]

...I need to be away, I think. For a while. [The Castile for a bit, and from there - well, who knows. Rincewind has slept in stables and forests and dry alcoves before. He's spent nights on the beach when he did't want to stumble home. The wizard needs to think about this, at least. With some distance. He's always felt safer with distance.

It just twists something inside him, in the part of him clinging to fractured memories of an adventure in a bait shop, or a terrible sandwich made in a tiny kitchen, to have to apply that to Will. Will, who has always felt like one of the safest harbors he knows.

I just need to sort this out, Rincewind tells himself, trying to believe it. It was too much of a shock. I just need time.]

All right. [Immediate, agreeable. Will isn't going to argue. He isn't going to fight. He isn't going to pull out guilt trips or get all emotional. Rincewind is his own person and Will can fully understand where Rincewind is coming from; this isn't a new situation.] We'll be here if you need anything. Take all the time you need.

[Harbors, safe or unsafe, have the delightful habit of staying in place. At least until a terrible storm completely washes them away. But it's okay. They can be rebuilt.]

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