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IC Contact [Asgard]

Catch all IC contact post for Will Graham at

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[Note: Will is unlikely to use video unless there is a good need for it. He'd be more inclined to do text until he's made a substantial recovery and becomes more comfortable with voice.]

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[Neville's arm is better, but he still feels all scraped raw regardless. He also really doesn't feel like looking any of his housemates in the face, so here he is under feeble pretenses, wandering the Sigyn hall that he never really settled into.

And that's when he smells something cooking. His stomach gives an embarrassingly loud rumble, and with a muttered word of reprimand down at it, Neville wanders towards the kitchen and pokes his head inside.]

... Oh. [Well, this is awkward. The fellow from the fire.] Er-- hullo.

[There are a few things that Will would not mind being "known" for in Asgard. The guy who always has a dog with him, the guy who doesn't make eye contact, the guy who sometimes wears glasses, the guy who tracks serial killers for a living, those are all just fine with him. When it comes to his housemates, he's fine being all of those and that one guy who uses the kitchen for a handful of things: eating only fish and salads and often making bacon, though for what, they can probably guess. He doesn't eat it himself, and he doesn't necessarily dole it out to his dogs like candy (bad for them if he gives them too much), but no one really needs to know that two direwolves sometimes scratch at his window and he lets them in to eat the saltiest, fattiest bacon that anyone could possibly imagine.

There are a few who have a better idea of parts of him, yes, but he's rather glad to keep up appearances. The appearances being he is not a man heading to a prison called a hospital when he gets back for the deaths and cannibalization of young women. He is really, really pleased that that's not the way most people think of him or even see him. So while he may come across as awkward and possibly a little too much of a dog fan, and someone who has a heavy job back home, he's perfectly fine with that. Honestly, it's preferable to just about anything else.

The guy who runs around back alleys during a fire and promptly makes it a goal to get angry professors off their angry students? It's not so bad, but there's only two other people that know about, and apparently one of them has stopped by. Lives in Sigyn, too, maybe? He doesn't know. He doesn't spend much time with the people in it, spends most of his time alone in his room when he's there. That's also something he's perfectly fine with.]

Hey. [It's loud enough just for him to be heard, and the smile he tries to send is really, really strained. Or maybe it's just strained to Will, considering few people here know about his near inability to honestly smile. Hopefully it's not the hideous grimace-smile combination he generally has plastered on his face whenever he so much as tries. The stove has two frying pans on it, one sizzling said salty, fatty bacon, and the other taking care of some fish. If he can knock the day's meals out in one go, he'll do it. Less time he can truly be seen. It's not in dire need of tending to, though, so he turns around to look at him fully, not sure of where his hands should go so stuffing them into his slacks it is.] You got your arm healed? I would have done it myself, but I'm not that good yet. Do you live here, too?

[All the more reason for a certain wizard to never, ever drop by.]

[Will's been informed that direwolves can, in fact, be rather vicious animals. He can't begrudge an animal its nature. It goes down to its very DNA, and holding that against it would be completely ridiculous. Sure, he's not very fond of the coyotes that sometimes plague the area around his house and serve as a threat to his dogs, but he knows that's just how they are. His first encounter with Grey Wind was a pleasant one, and he's never given him a reason to turn from something like friendly to ferocious. They won't attack those who do not mean Robb or his harm, that's what he remembers being told. He has no intention of ever posing a threat to Robb or whoever else might show up from his family, so he thinks it'll stay the same way: Grey Wind stops by his room for a bit of bacon sometimes, gets a good rubdown and scratching, and ends up going on his merry way.

She's a little thing, he notices (the girl, not the direwolf), which means very little in the long run of things. She could be just as vicious as a direwolf if she wanted to be, could be just as merciless—Will's track record with kids being kids is rather dismal.

The question has his eyebrows furrowing a bit, slightly confused. They lift eventually as if he's inviting a question or further discussion. He's open to whatever she may have to say if his face anything to go by.]

I was just giving her a bite to eat. [The entire bag will be devoid of bacon at this rate, but he's perfectly fine with that. He just pulls out bit after bit for her, not at all minding the spit he's getting all over his hand.] I do the same thing with Grey Wind, he likes the bacon. I was assuming she would, too.

[It's been purposefully wired to direwolf tastes, this bacon. It's his design and all.]

They can rip a man's arm from its socket without even growling in warning, I know. I've never given Grey Wind reason to harm me or made him think I'd harm Robb, so we get along just fine. Is that all right with you?

[He wants the d
irewolf
x 2]

Oh-- well, not really. I started here, but I moved in with some friends. [Neville gives him a small, embarrassed smile in return and sidles the rest of the way into the room. He has wisely chosen not to comment on the fact that Will's expression is faintly disturbing, in a kind of sad and awkward way, instead letting his fingers trail instinctively towards the arm that had been burned and then thoroughly manhandled by Snape. He picks at the fabric of his sleeve, fidgeting.]

Got my arm healed quite quickly. It wasn't that bad, I've had worse. [People keep telling him to stop saying that.] Erm, thank you. By the way.

[His lips twist slightly, and he's trying not to eye the bacon but he's totally eyeing the bacon for a good chunk of time before he manages to shake his head resolutely to clear it, still hovering awkwardly near the doorway.] And... sorry. I don't, I'm not normally like that. [Except he's been constantly like that on the Network where all the Death Eaters lurk and taunt him.] Do you work there? At the school? [Because that's the handiest explanation for being there during the fire.

But seriously never let Barty near your home.]

[The kid wisely chooses not to comment on the hideous expression that is Will Graham's "smile" and Will returns it with the wise choice not to comment on how obvious it is he's staring straight at the sizzling meat on the stove. It does, however, get a smile that's less of a grimace out of him. Hunger. He understands hunger, has been rather hungry himself from time to time here in Asgard.]

I do. Did, now. It's not really my type of teaching. [It's honestly not. Kids require way too much social interaction for Will, and now that the place has been thoroughly burned, he's going to use that as an out to get away from it. That, and considering the people who work there and move in and out of it (wizards), considering who's been in his head and he's going to work with to get back into it, it doesn't seem a good fit. He's going to skate right by that thanks if he possibly can. He doesn't need to be thanked. It's not a problem at all, as far as he's concerned.] I taught adults back home. It's a lot different with younger people.

[People, not kids. They're still people, and he knows well enough that calling teenagers kids is a surefire (oops) way to get hackles raised. He's only thirty-eight; he doesn't need them thinking he's ancient enough to consider someone nearly in their twenties a kid.

He has to bring attention to it eventually. He's not one to withhold a meal when he's got plenty extra that's proper food. He looks to the stove and back, giving him a face that clearly says he knows.]

Bacon might be a little too salty for you, what I've got going now. I can make some fresh. Or you can have some fish. Which one are you feeling up for? I've got plenty to go around.

[Seriously, he does. Piles of bacon and all that fish freshly caught, what sort of monster would he be not to share?]

[Neville very clearly wants to say bacon, yes, please, all the bacon.

But he just lost all that weight being half-starved and constantly running and fighting and getting tortured. He's never not been on the heavier side of pudgy before, and he's so not going back if he can help it.

And that delicious bacon would not be very helpful.

After being so careful to subsist largely on the salads and fruits and vegetables he can whip up instantly with his Growth power (all those biscuits inhaled to accompany spots of tea do not count), he should really stick to a nice, healthy, fresh fish. He should. He will.]

Fish? If it's no trouble. [Five points for that Gryffindor willpower, he feels he deserves it.] While you were teaching, I mean, here at-- [Neville is not going to call it the Albus Dumbledore Academy] Snape's school, did you notice anything... off?

[Pardon his throat clearing.]

Like, erm. Students getting tortured, or coerced, or, you know. [Just going to slip that in there, ultra smooth-like. Very casual. Like torturing younger people is an every-other-Tuesday sort of hobby.] Things of that nature.

No. [For what might be seen as an abrupt, bizarre question, Will doesn't seem at all bothered by it. His answer is simple and immediate. No, he hadn't seen any torture or coercion. Well, not really.] Unless you mean coercing students to do their homework and their studies, and then yes. That happened. Multiple times. I did it myself.

[The Asgard Homework Coercer. A better title than his last. He's moving to the freezer as he speaks, grabbing a bag full of fish to make up something fresh, and there's no more grimace to his smile. It's just a regular smile, because this is exactly Will's type of thing.]

I'd notice, too. That's my job back home. I teach how to recognize patterns, track, and catch serial killers. [Of which Snape does not seem like one, unless Albus' little write-up is a bunch of bullshit. Really doesn't look like the case here. Would he notice torture? Sure, just not his own. What he doesn't know yet, oh boy.] Torture's part of that, unfortunately.

[It's a heavy topic, but Will seems rather used to it, sliding that fish off onto a plate and sprinkling a little spice over it. Torture and murder is all a part of a regular day for him, apparently, if the way he holds the plate out for the kid is anything to go by.]

Will Graham. I didn't really have time to introduce myself last night.

I hope we're thinking of two entirely different levels of coercion.

[Because if Will was stabbing students with knives like certain Death Eaters when they refused to do their homework, then Neville would very much like to opt out of this friendly luncheon with him.

But that's the usual answer, isn't it? No, Snape hasn't done (or hired others to do) anything here other than be a bit of an arse, and it's starting to make Neville go a little out of his head. The fact that Snape got a second chance that Neville feels he never should have, and that he has actually made good on it so far, is completely maddening. It's not fair.

With a profound effort he puts that whole train of thought aside, though. Will seems like a nice enough bloke who probably kept the two of them from killing each other in the burning wreckage of the school, and he doesn't deserve to have all the Wizarding War baggage heaped on him out of the blue. He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a whoosh of:]

Oh. So you're an Auror? [A beat.] Or the, the-- Muggle version of that. [Muttered:] Po-leez, maybe?

[He shakes his head, as if to wave away the vocab blunder, and shuffles over towards the nearest chair where he can watch Will work on the meal, chewing on his thumbnail.]

Neville Longbottom. [He pinks a bit, despite himself.] I imagine I made a really horrible first impression, anyway. Sorry, erm, again.

[ He eases at the laugh, the casual demeanour. There is a certain image that he ought to attempt to maintain -- but still, relief sinks over him. If he need not scowl through this, all the better. ]

My thanks. What is your trade, Graham? Do you still practice it here? And what has Joffrey told you of himself?

I once met one who wore a stuffed iguana upon his hat. Rather, I believed it to be stuffed -- it turned out to be merely a bit wizened, and crawled off midway through the meeting.

Difficult doesn't begin to cover that sort of work; I don't know whether I could manage it.

[ It's not quite a lie. He detaches well enough to handle its implications, but that detachment is precisely what would keep him from the capability. ]

Crouch may think what he likes, though I suspect we'd all rather that he kept those thoughts to himself. You know yourself better than any other.

[ Whether he knows Will is another question entirely, one that he's certain others will have attempted to capitalize on. Still, for all his suspicions, his natural sympathies fall to the underdogs as well. ]

[Neville gets A Look before Will turns back to the stove, setting the pan of bacon on the back for it to cool without tasting one little bit of it. He knows when it's done, has no need to go biting into it. No. No, there wasn't any real torture at the school, that much should have been obvious from his face.

The fish is a different story and takes more of his attention, but he can talk at the same time. It's not that difficult.]

You don't need to apologize, Neville. It was a bad night for just about everyone. [Him, too, but he's not about to get into that, not after seeing all the vitriol over Barty's announcement. As for the name Longbottom? Nothing mentioned there. He has no right to judge or look at anyone strangely because of their name. That "right" was taken away from him.] Police, sort of. I work with an organization called the FBI. It's more complicated. [And the police tend to side-eye him unless they're dumping off a case that's not only too complex for them, but also really, really, really sick. He's not even an agent with the FBI. That doesn't need to be mentioned to anyone in Asgard that doesn't know as much.] The focus is narrower with what I do. My classes are quite specific.

[And also filled with lots and lots and lots of slides depicting lots and lots and lots of really gruesome, horrible ways to die.]

Are there organizations like that for Aurors, too? Branches set aside for specific things, special duties for one group instead of another?

[The word Aurors comes out a little mangled, but it's obvious enough. He'll get there. The little smile on his face when he looks over his shoulder says that, yeah, he knows he's not so good with that word yet. The Wizarding War hasn't been dumped on him entirely, but he's not opposed to listening about it from a kid who seems to have had a really bad time with it.

As long as he doesn't write up a damn essay about it and its participants.]

[He's read all the things he can on the network to get a better grasp of this whole world of wizards and magic, and he's not really sure how well his work could ever be understood. He knows he can't exactly understand a wizard's world, of course not, but could they ever grasp a Muggle world like the one Will knows? Not just knows, but the darkness of it he lives and breathes and dreams and sleeps and showers in?

Similar traits. People still being people. And yet all the differences make him a little

curious

How he hates it.]

That sounds a little more exciting than what I usually deal with.

[Also a good thing he doesn't deal with that because he might just think he's gone out of his damn mind if that ever happened.]

He can think whatever he wants, of course he can. I don't mind him sharing what he thinks with me. We get along in our own weird way. [Weird is an understatement.] I just mind him telling someone else. Anyone else. Sure, he's been portrayed as a "psychopathic" man with morality issues, but even a broken clock is right twice a day. It would be unfair to dismiss what he thinks he knows because of his reputation.

[Thinks he knows, yes, he'll spin this into wording that makes it really, really obvious that Will? He's not guilty of what Barty saw.

Not fully, at any rate.]

So are you going to ask what it was like to be in his head? Everything I saw and heard and felt? What about mine, are you going to ask about it in detail?

[For real, who can ignore the cannibalism thing. There's polite and then there's nearly insulting. This is the latter.

The thing about him knowing himself? Albus doesn't understand what an awful thing that is to say to Will Graham. No one here does. The man Abigail knew was sick and getting sicker. She saw him losing it step by step, but she can't know, not really. Albus isn't Lecter. Coming from Lecter, that would be...well, it's a good thing it's not. For both Will and that bastard.

And oh, all those broken clocks. More things no one needs to know.]

Edited 2014-03-30 02:23 (UTC)

[The strangest question yet but. Maybe he has insight? Attempting to be vague as possible.]

If a memory is lost, is it worth remembering?

[Well, Neville can't really argue with that. It was a bad night for everyone involved, even Snape. Especially Snape. Neville is a bit vindictively pleased about his (rather messy) part in that while simultaneously trying to tell himself not to be such a prat about it.

It's not an argument he's winning against himself.]

No, not really. Aurors get assigned to do what they're best at, I think, but there aren't enough of them to split up into specific divisions like that. It's a rather difficult field to get into, and it's dangerous, and the life-expectancy isn't precisely very high. [And then sometimes you get tortured into insanity by Barty Crouch, Jr.] They're not the only law enforcement, of course, but they're the only ones who've been trained to go after witches and wizards messing around with dark magic.

[AKA the sort of people who would be doing serial killing. Neville finally stops worrying at his nail, and takes a better look around the kitchen. More of the strange "technology" stuff everywhere, to the kid who is used to iceboxes and cauldrons and writing with a quill.] You're a Muggle, right? I mean, you haven't got any magic back at home? Is this all very strange to you?

[It takes Will a good forty-five minutes to get back to her, to stare it and think it over, to detach himself, to not get too personal, to work through everything he's thinking of doing here in Asgard and has acted on.

She can't know what sort of question that is to him. She can't. Nor can he begrudge her for it. She has no idea.]

Memories are precious, even the bad ones. The bad memories help us learn and grow. The very bad ones may hurt, but I would rather have every bad memory as well as the good than pick and choose without knowing what it is I lost. It could be bad, but bad can be useful. If it's good? Then I want it, too. I think all memories are worth remembering.

[A little less detached than he should be, he knows. But she did ask.]

Having some trouble with memory?

[Aurors get assigned to what they're best at sounds familiar to his own career, same with most everything else, although the life-expectancy issue with law enforcement has always been greatly exaggerated. Or so he thought. Then again, Will wasn't just a regular agent (or an agent at all) and Hannibal Lecter was not just a regular person. Had he not come in, Will might have just lived to a ripe old age teaching about murder before retiring to a boatyard with a pack of stray dogs.

The questions make him give out a laugh, barely anything more than flared nostrils and air rushing out of them. Good thing he wasn't facing Neville just yet, instead turning to get something to drink (water with fish, that wasn't a funny combination at all) for the both of them.]

I'm what you'd call a Muggle, yes. [You because Will has had some experience with wizards in Asgard. A little bit of their terminology has wormed its way into his addled brain. Muggle. Some sort of defenseless woodland creature, that's what it sounded like to him.] I've been here over two months, last I checked. It was very strange at first. I had to spend some time alone in the room here just checking everything out to make sure I hadn't lost my mind and been put somewhere for it.

[It's not a potshot at Neville's issues, what he knows of them, but he's not letting on that he's speaking from personal experience. That's what awaits him back home, but the way he hesitates before he comes around to slide that glass of water in front of the kid clearly says something. Maybe he feels he messed up. Maybe he's said too much.

It was all public. He can't really be blamed, can he?]

Then I realized my imagination is not good enough to make up all the different people here, gods, magic, everything. Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. [He shrugs, carefully looking for any reaction that comes from his possible flub up, drinking out of his own glass as he looks back to the stove.] Once I accepted that, it was smooth sailing.

[Maybe the kid will latch onto the whole "how do you know about Muggles, really?" thing, might prod and ask how well he knew Snape in the first place, who he talked to, and that? He'd be fine with it. Maybe he'd get a little somber at the mention of being driven mad, which he'd feel not at all great about causing.

Or maybe he'd just rip his thumbnail off in record timing; he hadn't been around him enough to know how he'd really behave.]

Edited 2014-03-30 10:47 (UTC)

[The truth is, she knows this and fought for it in her own way. She's not sure how to ask what the hell happened to conjure any sort of suspicion or unwanted concern. She doesn't want to forget, either, but maybe losing days bothers her more than it should. Something keeps telling her to remember.

God, she hates to ask for help or input.]

Of course they are but what does it mean to lose a day? What would you do to remember it?

[Really, the only reaction Neville gives is that his eyes drop down to the table instead of watching Will anymore. The thing about his parents is that he told nobody, not even his friends, not even after they'd walked in on him in St. Mungo's. As soon as he was away from his gran and her constant reminders that he wasn't as good as them, that the memory of who they used to be was owed more than what he turned out as, he'd clammed up completely, never let anyone know what sort of thing bothered him. Except that one time he tried to punch Draco's lights out for mocking people like them, shut up for life with irreversible spell damage to the brain - but that was accidental and intensely embarrassing to think about after.

So he's quite used to pretending it doesn't affect him, casual mentions like that. He's not even certain Will knows: it'll take a little while longer in Asgard for Neville to really wrap his mind around the idea that such heated conversations are infinitely re-watchable, even by people not involved at the time.

Instead he offers Will an awkward, slightly wobbly, stretched-thin smile, eyes never really getting higher than his collar but making no comment on it one way or the other.]

I don't suppose there's much that's impossible here, is there? But that makes sense. [He reaches for his own glass of water and looks down into it.] You've talked to some of us before, haven't you? Other witches and wizards, I mean. [There hadn't been that note of mild bewilderment behind the word Muggle when he'd repeated it, like Neville had gotten used to hearing from people here.]

[What we he do? More like what wouldn't he do. He doesn't know what sort of state he'll be when he goes back, doesn't know how things will work out. He knows the doctor he'll be under (what a thought) isn't so ethical, and he could only fight so much. There would have to be compromise at some point. And, if things got out of control more than they already were, what would he do to get it all back? How much would he be willing to let go of himself, what sort of "therapy" would he allow if it just

never

ended?]

I would do anything I had to. [He's going to opt out of talking about how he'd eventually accept drug treatments, would accept things being run through his system to find parts of his mind that were taken away from him. That he might just end up letting himself be strapped into a chair while questionable substances are used to see what's in there, staring at flashing lights for hours, hypnosis—God, no, the more he thinks about it? The more he would, in fact, do anything to remember it.] Maybe I'd lose a boring day where I'd just eaten and gone to work and nothing out of the ordinary happened. But I might have lost one where something very important did. It's worth doing whatever it takes and remembering ten regular days to get to the ones that were "worth" all of it because of what I found out.

[How many times he lost what was going on, he doesn't know. Months of working through boring memories, and finally getting one of Abigail? Or Lecter?

He'd do it.]

[You should know this.

But she cannot turn inward quite yet -- perhaps she's afraid each time she does. Every time, it becomes darker, even more fragile. Wonderland would crack at her touch and all of them would demand her to fix it. She has to do it on her own terms, but Alice reminds herself she should know this. Maybe she wants to hear it from another person; it's reassuring yet particularly frightening that she can see these traits in another. Even rousing her never sated curiosity. This isn't right. Is it? It's starting to get a little annoying after a while.]

It is as you said, all memories are important. Maybe it will come back sooner or later. Just in a very unpleasant way. I am sorry, I hope I am not a nuisance to you asking all these strange questions.

[Ah. Lack of eye contact, Will knows that rather well. Granted, he blames it on looking too much, seeing what doesn't really matter, but he doubts that's the case with Neville. He doesn't seem the type to know what sort of diseases can be shown in just the eyes. He just seems a little...bothered.

And trying not to show it.

Will makes no attempt to keep his eyebrows from lifting, face a little incredulous at the question. It's a little silly, he thinks, but he can't truly be blamed, can he? He'd just gone through a traumatic experience, was shoved in a new world that had others from his own here, others he did not have good experiences with, and was surrounded by Muggles. Will probably did similar things (questions that might have seemed stupid) when confronted with the knowledge of werewolves, of vampires, of everything else that he thought fiction. Gruesome murders? Bodies mutilated in terrifying, unheard of ways? Why not.

Wizards? What the hell?]

I have. Well, a few of them. [There's a shrug before he turns back to the stove. This little meal is a first, a chance for Neville to feel he's made a better impression. He's not going to take that from him, and he's sure not going to make him anything less than the best he can.] Let me see. Sirius Black. He likes dogs. I found one and...just didn't have the space. He was my first thought. They seem to get on just fine. [And he'd said something to Will that really, really, really gave him food for thought.] Professor Snape, obviously. Albus Dumbledore. Those are the ones I've talked to the most.

[This is A Lie. This is a big fat lie. He's talked to Albus quite a bit. He's talked to Barty Crouch Junior far more than he should have. He's seen his head, and he's seen Will's. Letting that be known to the kid who, apparently—

—he'd heard screaming. How many people had Barty tortured? Was the screaming he'd heard Neville's—

No, no, he couldn't tell him. Wouldn't until he absolutely had to.]

I've picked up a little terminology by this point. It's all very strange to me. I think Muggle makes us sound like some sort of...defenseless woodland creature.

[Is he a little bothered by the idea that, maybe in his own world, no matter how prepared he'd be, a gun, whatever, there could be people who would be able to take him down without doing much?

Maybe a little.]

[Will's lost memories are the key to his freedom, or so he believes. Wants to believes. The words of a madman, no matter how true they ring, against the word of Hannibal Lecter would be like throwing pebbles at a brick wall in the hopes of it falling over. But if he can remember enough, can pinpoint details and evidence overlooked, he could do it. He could. No one needs to save him, he just needs a little help. If it takes being used as a prize patient, so be it. If it takes every bit of blood in his body in the end, if it comes to he and Lecter and a kitchen full of knives, so

be

it.

Twenty sessions that might give him twenty memories of just driving? Fine. He'll take it. Fifty. But he will go until he finds at least one that points straight to his innocence. Anything. Nothing is too far, not now.]

Why would it be unpleasant? [His might come back in hideous ways, ways that involving sweating, the fear he's dying, being unable to stand for hours after. But they may just come from something that reminds him of it. A meal might trigger something, he doesn't know. He tries here in Asgard, but nothing has really struck him so far.] Do you think you'd have to do something that might be hurtful to get them back? There are methods that can be used, some that are not awful. You might just get them back on your own. The brain is a very interesting part of the body. It might not come back in an unpleasant way.

[He's ignoring the last part. He hopes that his continuing to talk to her shows that no, he doesn't mind at all.]

[Through what? Through hypnosis? Well, no. She never wants to deal with that again. Or have anyone assist her with memories. It has to be done by her own means, no one else. The brain may be interesting, but the mind is delicate. She cringes at the thought.]

I would rather have them return to me by my own means. Other things will not work; that's how it should be done. That is how memories return, isn't it, through painful means? It always seems that way.

["I should be used to it!" She wants to say. Suddenly, Alice finds herself retreating.]

But not to worry, these things happen.

Edited 2014-04-03 02:24 (UTC)

[Perhaps it's best he never discuss more modern treatments with her. Oh yes, it's been said they're less barbaric. Of course some of them are. Some of them. But with the rise of medicine came newer drugs and Will couldn't say that some of them would be

off the table

when it came to a certain place. When it came to how determined he was to remember. Hopefully it all came out before he ended up possibly frying his brain or losing hold of himself, giving up control in desperation.

He knew who he was. More importantly, he knew who he wasn't. The mind may be delicate, he'd say, but if the brain wasn't working properly...everything else was just as delicate, if not more so.]

Sometimes a little kick in the pants is needed to help recovery memory. That's all I'm saying. [What an understatement.] It would be nice to find it without any help, but that's rather rare. In my experience.

[Nice. Easy. Those? Don't really have a place in grown up life.]

"These things." Did something happen or did you just have issues with memory?

[Subtle hints and vague questions. That is all Alice will do or so she vows. Asgard has gave her a clean slate and there's no one here to hold her past against here. Not as many people to take advantage of it. The former, fragile Rutledge patient.

It won't be undone again.]

It is difficult, but it can be done.

[You would just have to go to Wonderland -- your Wonderland, in a sense.]

I suppose I should say it would not be the first time and that is all I will say. Because the last thing I am is insane.

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Page 6 of 13

IC Contact [Asgard]

421 blazed it yesterday

yes good idea tell the guy with the fbi about your gillyweed stash

no subject

omg he was just holding it for a friend it's not really his!!

that's what they all say. give it here.

you'll never take me alive, copper!

good. he does way better with dead bodies than living.

will no that is not an okay way to be

no subject

late like will's late mother

will graham is not okay more breaking news at 11

wow rude!!!! he doesn't know her maybe she's still alive. just not alive in his life. a bloo bloo

text; day 423

well not with that attitude!

text forever, etc.

i'm here because i'm your friend

no subject

bless

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