[ Hopefully whomever was in the same, rubble laden building as Will wasn't expecting their partner in crime to show up any time soon. Laying awkwardly across two pieces of broken concrete wall, the ex-profiler took his time working his way from is this hell? to why am I not dead? to where am I?
Body twisted in an artful tangle of limbs, it was the slow realization that the bleeding knife wounds on cheek, thigh and shoulder were hurting way too much for him to be dead. That Hell suggested a reality that was too in line with Hannibal's way of thinking for Will to want any part of, and finally that if he was going to work out where he was, he was going to have to get up.
That seemed like a lot of effort but with a groan Will inched his way down the concrete slab, landing like an awkward duckling on the dusty floor. His open wounds stung as the dust hit raw flesh and Will sighed heavily before muttering under his breath. ]
Can't even manage to die without making it complicated.
[ Pushing himself to his feet, he began to take further stock of his situation when a noise (perhaps someone else clattering about) caught his attention. The instinct to retreat until he could get eyes on potential danger warred with a first responder's instinct to check on people. Too weary to maintain any healthy level of paranoia, Will followed the latter. ]
Hello?
➥ Birdswatching
[ At least he was no longer in a blood stained white shirt. That was the good news. Bad news would be the fact that he's standing somewhere he probably shouldn't be, yelling at birds. ]
Listen you rats with wings! Until you start sprouting horns I don't want to hear it!
[ Hear what? The birds weren't making any noise. Might be best to leave the madman to his devices, but if you feel like asking he does pause in his bitching to set his hands on his hips and stare right back at the birds.
Yeah, he's probably going to regret that later. ]
➥ Current Events (cw: We Feast Upon the Flesh / Hannibal canon subject matter. If you want to avoid it completely, let me know and I will steer the conversation away.)
[ The events in Dogtown are definitely coming back to bite him on the ass. It is almost impossible for Will to see anyone else at the barbeque except the seagulls and the gulls are making him itch.
Not physically, but psychologically. The sort of itch that has him standing with the top off his hamburger, poking at the patty with a concerned finger. Sometimes lifting it up to his nose did that smell like long pig? Each time he made to lift the food towards his mouth, a gull would settle its feathers, causing Will to drop the burger as if burned.
At which point the paranoid staring and sniffing actions would start up all over again. ]
Will Graham | Hannibal (NBC)
[ Hopefully whomever was in the same, rubble laden building as Will wasn't expecting their partner in crime to show up any time soon. Laying awkwardly across two pieces of broken concrete wall, the ex-profiler took his time working his way from is this hell? to why am I not dead? to where am I?
Body twisted in an artful tangle of limbs, it was the slow realization that the bleeding knife wounds on cheek, thigh and shoulder were hurting way too much for him to be dead. That Hell suggested a reality that was too in line with Hannibal's way of thinking for Will to want any part of, and finally that if he was going to work out where he was, he was going to have to get up.
That seemed like a lot of effort but with a groan Will inched his way down the concrete slab, landing like an awkward duckling on the dusty floor. His open wounds stung as the dust hit raw flesh and Will sighed heavily before muttering under his breath. ]
Can't even manage to die without making it complicated.
[ Pushing himself to his feet, he began to take further stock of his situation when a noise (perhaps someone else clattering about) caught his attention. The instinct to retreat until he could get eyes on potential danger warred with a first responder's instinct to check on people. Too weary to maintain any healthy level of paranoia, Will followed the latter. ]
Hello?
➥ Birdswatching
[ At least he was no longer in a blood stained white shirt. That was the good news. Bad news would be the fact that he's standing somewhere he probably shouldn't be, yelling at birds. ]
Listen you rats with wings! Until you start sprouting horns I don't want to hear it!
[ Hear what? The birds weren't making any noise. Might be best to leave the madman to his devices, but if you feel like asking he does pause in his bitching to set his hands on his hips and stare right back at the birds.
Yeah, he's probably going to regret that later. ]
➥ Current Events (cw: We Feast Upon the Flesh / Hannibal canon subject matter. If you want to avoid it completely, let me know and I will steer the conversation away.)
[ The events in Dogtown are definitely coming back to bite him on the ass. It is almost impossible for Will to see anyone else at the barbeque except the seagulls and the gulls are making him itch.
Not physically, but psychologically. The sort of itch that has him standing with the top off his hamburger, poking at the patty with a concerned finger. Sometimes lifting it up to his nose did that smell like long pig? Each time he made to lift the food towards his mouth, a gull would settle its feathers, causing Will to drop the burger as if burned.
At which point the paranoid staring and sniffing actions would start up all over again. ]