004 | stale donuts | video

[infomodder]

[The video flips onto Will, situated at an older, well-worn desk in front of a window that seems to have come standard with the building itself. Right outside the window, right behind Will, is one of those ads featuring Chrollo. It all looks very cramped, though Will has managed to take the time to actually shave and get a haircut and put in the basic effort to look socially presentable. He's even wearing a plain white shirt and dark blue tie, nothing plaid in sight. Like it's normal! Tiny space, business dress, a totally shirtless dude in a cologne ad if he looks over his shoulder, everything is fine.]

Good afternoon, imPorts. Two things. [Will's eyes occasionally lift from the camera, as though there's someone giving him cues.] My name is Will Graham, and I've just taken on the position of working as a liaison between the police and our imPort population. Ideally, there would be a clearer line of communication between the two. If anything happens and you're uncomfortable going to the police yourself, for any reason, that's what I'm here for. [Eyes flick up. Well.] And to encourage you to go to the police when the need for it arises—they can't help if we keep them in the dark and doing everything on our own without giving them any notice serves to only add onto later headaches.

[So basically don't be Miles Edgeworth with the whole Yuri Petrov is Lunatic thing. Be him in the way that he was right, don't be him going to the Network for vigilante justice without doing anything else first. Okay? Okay. Good. Not that Will's incapable of just telling them about by looking at his own communicator, but he's not sure that's the best thing to share. Not immediately. The eyes shifting stops as Will takes a breath. Too much talking, goodness.]

For the second, since she was always quite good at stirring the pot, I'd like to add that Freddie Lounds, the journalist behind Tattlecrime: Heropa, seems to have been Ported out as of the end of February. [Casually leaving out what happened to her before that, delivery matter-of-fact, void of any and all emotion towards her.] I assume the site will be left as is, but there won't be any further updates. ["Updates" being a loose word for it; the way he emphasizes it is the first slip in the neutral mask, Will sounding irritated above all else. Got a bad taste in his mouth about it all.] If you have any questions, let me know.

[No "thank you for listening," no "goodbye," Will leaves it at that, flicks the camera off. That's all, folks.]

Comments

[boobwindow]

[ He's from a world where superheroes don't exist, so any outside help he probably regards with heavy skepticism and suspicion. She could easily yell back at him for being dense with regards to her costume and mantle, but that wouldn't be a fair assessment, would it? Not with his emotions running high and him probably saying things he might not usually blurt out. ]

Because it's my job!

[ And because there's a truck load of guilt that weighs her shoulders down. ]

You aren't the only one who owes people the justice and closure they deserve, so don't even act like it!

[infomodder]

[Working with Freddie (if it could be called that) was always a difficult, teeth-pulling task. Had been, once upon a time. Here and now, he's reminded of a tenuous meeting and dinner, where he was flanked by others, couldn't act out without a handler smacking him down if things got out of control. No Alana Bloom or Jack Crawford here to tug his leash, no Hannibal Lecter to let it go on just as long as he finds it worthwhile or entertaining (thank God), it's both refreshing and alarming. Will Graham, being left alone, in some position that involves talking to people...horror story, that.]

I'm not acting. [Perhaps an odd statement, but perhaps telling more than anything else. He's not acting, this is him being him, there are no pretenses, nothing shown is bullshit or posturing. She needs to know that, for some reason—Will's spent enough time back in Baltimore living with one face to the world and another to Hannibal Lecter, let him make it clear that she's speaking to him being him and nothing or no one else.] And you say it's your job, but...it's not officially, is it?

[That he calms down when he asks it isn't acting, either. He can settle. He can chill out. And she's using very specific wording that he doesn't think is accurate. Is she getting paid for this? Is it really her job? Or is it some duty, self-assigned or otherwise? There is a difference, which one is he speaking to?

Freddie Lounds had been Will's job and duty back home, he wasn't shocked she'd put him back in his old line of work. Just not pleased how it had happened.]

[boobwindow]

[ Oh.

She sees where this is going and her expression hardens fast, unimpressed. ]

It is my job. I won't stop doing what I've done for years because I'm currently stuck in a world where people assume if you aren't pro-Registration you're anti-establishment or a dangerous vigilante.

[ This isn't an interview and while it sure as hell feels like her experience and duty is being called into question, she's run out of patience completely with Will. ]

You don't want outside help, fine.

You should think twice about your position if you're going to start taking up issues with those of us who choose to wear capes and such.

[ Disconnects. ]