[He cannot believe what he just read. Granted, Albus can't know how many buttons he's pressing right now, but any part of Will that was previously willing (pun? you decide) feels like it's flown far, far away. No one lectures Will Graham on empathy, who he chooses for company, manipulation of the mind, and then gives him some sort of bullshit advice on what methods he should take when dealing with the murderous.
He's a grown man. He's a profiler. He's got this.
Kind of.]
I know all about empathy. I know exactly which memories are mine, which are the memories of the murderous back home, and which belong to Bartemius Crouch. You don't need magic to exploit the mind and its memories.
[He just doesn't yet know how exactly true that is in his own case.]
If anything happens that relates to anyone but myself and him, I'll inform you. As it is now, it doesn't relate to anyone else.
[Suck it, you magical bearded piece of bird shit.]
no subject
He's a grown man. He's a profiler. He's got this.
Kind of.]
I know all about empathy. I know exactly which memories are mine, which are the memories of the murderous back home, and which belong to Bartemius Crouch. You don't need magic to exploit the mind and its memories.
[He just doesn't yet know how exactly true that is in his own case.]
If anything happens that relates to anyone but myself and him, I'll inform you. As it is now, it doesn't relate to anyone else.
[Suck it, you magical bearded piece of bird shit.]