maskormenace | one

The last I heard of Doctor Chilton, he wouldn't be able to discuss anything for the near future.

[ Because that's what happens when you have a hole in your cheek. ]

Still, I suppose superheroes would have to have super doctors. Who knows, with those two.

[It's roughly the time she mentions Chilton not being able to discuss when the squishing stops. Gloves are pulled off loud enough to hear, hands are wiped off on pants, and then the feed switches. First shot is of a ceiling, wood, the room a little dark, the noise of crickets still present. It turns as Will takes a hold of it, kind enough to keep images of maggots and the other creepy crawlies out of the shot as he leaves the room and looks down at it. It's not the Will Graham she's ever met, unless she'd been snooping around his house. Oh, the flannel's still there, but there's a name tag that's not temporary, a tacky hat complete with a dull bill hooked around it, hair shaggy and in desperate need of a cut curled out underneath it. It's Will Graham, of course, but it's him looking, for all intents and purposes, like a perfectly normal guy.

Surrounded by fishing equipment.

Any humor the situation might have had before is completely gone. They have their differences, there's no denying it. There's no denying that he's not overjoyed she's here. There's also no denying that something clearly very serious has prompted the change, quick as it was. He doesn't look directly in the camera for a moment, focus elsewhere—if she can figure out it's a shop and the name tag means he's at work, she can figure out he's looking at the door—and licks his lips before he finally speaks.]

Last I heard about you, you were. Temporarily out of order due to Gideon abducting you and using you as a...makeshift respirator. [He's a good liar when he needs to be. This isn't a lie. The diminished lack of hostility he generally has when speaking to her should give that much away. When he manages to make it behind the counter as he talks and leans against a stool, he's still tense. He can't get rid of that.] That the reason Doctor Chilton wouldn't be able to discuss anything?

[Fishing in a bait and tackle shop while wearing a fishing hat.

Someone's not even trying to be subtle.]

[ She is judging you because of that hat, Will. She is juuuuudging you.

But what the hell. This is seemingly normal Will Graham, Will Graham functioning awesomely, Will Graham looking like a normal person. Not behaving like a normal person because this is Will, 'normal' and Will don't exactly mix. But his surroundings and attire get a quirk of the eyebrow.

...which almost incidentally vanishes as Will mentions the incident at the observatory. ]

That was months ago. We've talked since then.

[ Oh God. He's crazy. Or, she supposed, crazier as the case may be. ]

[He sells it. It's advertising. Just about everything he's wearing can be found in his store. He's very into this job.

How he looks and how she might think of him for it doesn't matter. He doesn't care. There's more important things going on right now and, as per usual, they relate to details. Always information with Freddie Lounds. As much as that screwed him over in the past, it's still familiar. In a world with flying cars and all sorts of things that make no Goddamn sense, at least this does.]

Not months ago for me. [That air of distraction he generally had, whether he was distracted or not, isn't present. He's focused on Freddie, on this conversation. This isn't a fish he can afford to let go.] We get pulled here and. Sometimes our memories don't match each other. They're not lined up. Chilton and Gideon hadn't experienced what I had when I first came here. They... [He looks down at a whine from the floor, swallows.] ...have now had some experiences I'm not privy to.

[In short: there is a staggering amount of information that's known, not known, and isn't properly being shared. He thinks she gets that much.]

The last thing I remember, I. [How to say this, how to say this...] Was on my way to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. I broke out. Ditched the ambulance. Ended up at Doctor Lecter's. We were on our way to Minnesota, and I...must've fallen asleep in the car. Came to and I was. [Eyebrows furrow, lips thin out. It's either a tough pill to swallow or he's got some heartburn.] Here.

[Doctor Lecter is said just like any other name. There's no hatred there, no anger, nothing that says Will has any negative issues with him. Crazy? No. Just behind the times.

And a little worried, though hardly for himself.]

Edited 2014-06-04 23:01 (UTC)

Well, here's some good news for you, [ Freddie remarks, looking at Will with a little smirk. ] You get out eventually.

[ Of course, it's not under ideal circumstances. But hey, Will doesn't need to know that. Will doesn't need to know most things about his future. She has an advantage here and Freddie is holding onto it as long as possible. ]

[Will doesn't need to know. Sometimes he wants to know, but he has a feeling it wouldn't do him much good. He can't change anything here. He can watch and read between lines, he can try to surmise what's being kept and why, but he hasn't asked.

He doesn't think he needs to ask, exactly, when it comes to Freddie. It's a blessing and a curse.]

I assumed. [His voice is steady, like she hadn't just revealed new information. She had—at least, she'd said it out loud—but if Chilton had no fear of Will on the loose, surely his being released wasn't such a stretch.] Never did it in the first place.

[He tilts his head to the side, perhaps a little less serious in his get up, but still just as grim.]

Good idea to mind your words here, Freddie. Publicly speaking. No one gives much of a shit about me. [Sort of...he likes to believe it anyway. No one should really care about him in the first place. If he had it his way, he'd be up in De Chima. Alone. Surrounded by dogs. No one would know who he was. But there's no one here who has such a level of possessiveness about him as...well.] Not the same with our two mutual. Acquaintances.

["Shit," the job, the clothes, no Jack Crawford behind him, no badge, no power. Totally normal guy right here waiting to be asked for details or, perhaps, if he wants details himself.]

[ No one gives much of a shit about him yet. Freddie plans to change that. After all, Tattlecrime Heropa's gonna have to have a few stories, why not a crushing expose about possible serial killer Will Graham? It would certainly be a good hook and something perfect to attract first-time readers. ]

And I'm sure you'd like to keep it that way, wouldn't you. [ Let's be real, Will: Freddie's gonna try her hardest to ruin your life.]

[The words hit him, unexpected, and his confusion is impossible to hide. It takes him a second to get what she's addressing. Of course she'd focus on him. Of course. That's not what he meant at all.]

I wasn't talking about me. [He'd like to stay a nobody, sure. He'd also like for Freddie not to end up on a shitlist that involves an advanced robot who threatens her psychiatrist in the open.] Chilton and Gideon have been here much longer than me. They've made. Connections, let's say. There are people here who have more history with them than I do. Than you do.

[Will's met them enough to know enough. Met them enough to shoot one of them in the head. He's never spent much time with them and doesn't want to. He won't be the one to do anything if she says something upsetting. Something out of line.]

People you shouldn't do anything to piss off. Leopard print can't spare you.

[ This is Freddie Lounds. By the end of the day, she'll be on half the city's shitlist. ]

Then surely those connections deserve to know the truth? Abel Gideon is a murderer and Frederick Chilton is hardly a picture of ethics. People need to know what you and those men have done.

[At the mention of the truth, he props up the communicator so he can lean back on the stool, looking properly thoughtful...for a guy in what he's wearing, he looks thoughtful. It's a good thing that bill of his hat obscures his face, because it would be obvious his disdain for being lumped in with Gideon and Chilton, both who were using (or had been; he and Gideon didn't chat frequently) while he'd done everything he could to ignore his old career and play with fish and maggots. At least Chilton had gone right back to the same. She could go after that, but Will?

Shit, he didn't even want too many people knowing him because that's what he's always wanted.]

The truth has been difficult to piece together with...time variations. [One hand picks up his hat so he can run the other hand over his face, looking properly tired and somewhat defeated.] But you're right, Freddie. Gideon is a murderer, Chilton is hardly the picture of ethics, [Defeat falls away immediately, replaced with confidence behind stating facts other than anything vague. Fast facts, rapid fire, like he'd already had this memorized (he didn't).] you have made a living taking the employment of various law enforcement workers, at least one of which ended up shot in the head when he confronted you. You then released intimate information that led to a young woman in a coma nearly being kidnapped and turned into a— [He reaches into the front pocket of his shirt, same gesture one would use to find a pen, acting more like he was getting a phone number than anything else.] —you're right, the truth has to come out. Do you want to be called Freddie Lounds or Miss Freddie Lounds?

[Though he kind of wants to see what she'd do if he didn't. Tells the world Gideon's a murderer and Chilton's an asshole, watch everyone stare at her because it's already known.

...could be worth it?]

Don't you dare blame me for releasing that information about Abigail, I had no choice. [ It's obvious based on Freddie's expression and how she looks like a cornered cat, that Abigail Hobbs is still a bit of a sore spot for her. ] That man killed the officer. So sue me for wanting to live.

[The name is what has him stopping, though it's easily explained by it all having been an act. There's no pen in his pocket, and he knew as much. His jaw tightens, he crosses his arms, props one foot up on a leg of the stool, and looks right ahead, right at her, no distracted eyes looking down, nothing. It's not quite hostile, but

it could get there.]

If you could be sued, you wouldn't have been around long enough for that to happen. [Vulture slimy eel snail snake all of it, how is she even still functional, he wonders, unless she just lives off that toxic sludge she leaves in her wake.] You did have a choice. You chose to write about me, psychopath who killed the Shrike but helped save his daughter. Stuck in a hospital. Do I blame you about releasing that information to keep your life? No. I blame you about your lack of ethics, writing garbage for your own gains that resulted in suffering and eventually death and almost worse while you sit there, smiling, and you're calling Chilton unethical?

[It's all coming out so quickly, flowing out of his mouth like he's wanted to say it for so long. His hands stay clenched around his arms, but that hostility may as well have flown right out the window for how obviously heated he is about this. If he had been restraining it, the mention of Abigail would be enough to crack that like, oh...a heated glass.

Couple of psychopaths pissing each other off, it seems.]

You wanna live? Mind your words about them and to them. I don't think about killing for a living anymore. No need to worry about pissing me off.

[ Of course she wrote about you Will, it was good journalism (and even more hits on the website). Besides, it was a public service! The people needed to know just how desperate the FBI was, that they were using a killer to catch the killers, a psychopath to catch psychopaths. Will Graham, the FBI's bloodhound, stuck on their leash.

Or so she tries to justify to herself. ]

You think I'll believe you? Because honestly, I don't. I don't trust you at all and I have no reason to believe anything you say. People deserve to know about the three of you, and I certainly plan on telling them. [ And then making stronger friends because you are possibly the Ripper, Will, she doesn't want to die. ]

Enjoy your anonymity while you can.

[She's not getting it. She's not getting it, he's not surprised, but this isn't going anywhere good if one of them can't...drop the scales from their eyes in regards to the other. He takes a deep breath, lets it out, relaxes again. As much as he can, that shoulder taken into account.]

I've been here long enough to see what people think of the two of them, Freddie, that's what I mean. Not long after I arrived, there was an. Incident. In Chilton's office. It was a mess, blood everywhere. I knew who it must have been, but. No one could find them. I think. I wasn't involved that much. Before then... [That hat obscures it, but he's trying to think of the best way to say it.] ...he hadn't been gutted, Gideon hadn't been. Shot. They weren't aware any of it had happened and I was not. Going to tell them. Came back and. Not telling me much, either.

[His voice is only as loud as it needs to be, raw. Sincere memories, not facts or bullshit.]

Do some research. His office was...six weeks ago, maybe? And then they came back after and. [Still obscured by that bill as he is, it's pretty obvious he's smiling. Strained hideous ting that is.] Don't do the work yourself, I'll do it for you. Give you a timeline of events. Evidence that's not my word if you won't...investigate on your own.

[ Freddie just pauses, listening, thinking. Really, what she's getting out of this is that people can go back home. Before, Chilton wasn't gutted. Now, he was.

Though if Will Graham thinks that he's getting information out of her, he's wrong. ]

If they could go back home, why the hell would they choose to come back here?

[He tilts his head at the question, eyebrows raised (under his hat, but the rest of his face is enough to get that much from it), looks at her like she's just asked a dumb question.]

Did you choose to come here? I didn't. Seems we don't choose when and where or anything. I didn't choose what I got, I don't think you chose leopard print. [He's not saying his. Yet.] I don't think they chose to go back home or come back here. It's just. How this place operates.

[ There's an exasperated siiiiiiigh. ] How...annoying.

Little bit.

[Trying to think of—oh.]

Chilton told me I was here before, too. I don't remember it. Another here, not this. Here. There was—trying to make sense of it. [If Freddie thinks his sigh matches hers exactly, she's right; he doesn't realize he's done it and it could come across as mocking.] Doesn't work. Not much sense here.

[Once again, Will finds himself riddled with questions about why the hell Hannibal keeps coming up. He'd ask, but. He has a feeling it won't be any good for him to know. He just doesn't know it it's the exact opposite direction of how it would be not good for him to know.]

At least you can move if you don't like Heropa.

["You" there is generic. In fact, it almost sounds like Will's thinking of moving himself.]

I'm starting to realize that.

[ Nothing here is making sense and it is absolutely obnoxious. Freddie isn't sulking, but she certainly looks peeved and miffed. This place is stupid, Will. ]

You know, I'm honestly thinking I might. While I'm sure Florida's a great climate for murder, it's not a good climate for me. [ Further distance between her and Will, after all! ]

[This place is stupid, annoying, obnoxious, and more so now that it's pulled Freddie Lounds into it. He's still going to do his damnedest to treat it like a form of retirement. It had to be her, didn't it.]

Florida is a wonderful climate for murder. [He has no hesitations saying it, simply stating fact.] Not so wonderful for the curls. Heard good things about Maurtia Falls. Supposed to be. Discreet.

[Meaning Freddie Lounds could probably find something to ruin that last part of it.]

Anything else you wanna ask me, Miss Lounds?

[Phrasing is a hell of a thing.]

[ She would definitely find something to ruin that last part of it. ]

Nothing I can think of off the top of my head. I'll ring you if I have any questions you can answer.

[ she won't. ]

Make sure that you do. I'm easy to. Find.

[Seriously, there's one bait shop in Heropa that's run by an imPort as far as he knows. It's his. He's the one. He might as well just put up a cot in the back room and live there. He reaches out for the communicator, about to turn it off, and then a slow, unhappy smile crosses his face before he adds:]

And Freddie? I was never Doctor Lecter's patient. We just had conversations.

[It's technically true. Technically. They weren't official. It's a much better way to say he's watching her than to say he's...watching her. Isn't it?

Has to be, because that's the last thing he says before he turns it off, looking that unhappy mess he's not unused to being.]

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