(Untitled)

[grahamcommawill]

Who: Will and Richie; closed.
What: Checking in with his inmate.
Where: Richie's cabin.
When: A few days after this, when Richie's cabin returned to normal.
Notes: Swearing? That should be a given.

Comments

[notafuckingnut]

Four days.

Four long, empty, boring days. In a cell. Richie wasn't exactly a solitary creature under the best of circumstances, leaving him to his own devices in a room tricked out as the one place he had liked the least on top of it was in itself its own form of torture.

Needless to say, by the time the room returned to its former state, long after he had demolished five pens beyond use in his increasingly frantic attempts to escape the space, "displeased" was the least of the words that could be used to describe his state.

By the time the knock came, he was livid. Or at least had about the worst case of cabin fever he'd had in a while.

But the message had been received, at least; while he was undoubtedly pissed, he managed a relatively civil tone. "You really gonna keep fucking knocking every time? Like I got a choice."

[grahamcommawill]

Will entered the room calmly and closed the door behind him.

"Technically, you do. And yes, I'll keep knocking. It's called being polite." Changing one's room to a cell for several days didn't factor on the 'manners' scale, apparently. After looking around a moment, though not for anything in particular, he sat down on the couch available. It was about as comfortable as it looked.

"That was to prove a point, which I think you got."

[notafuckingnut]

Both tone and expression were nothing less than petulant. "I said I wouldn't do it again, didn't I?"

Of course, he always said that. Whether he would ultimately follow through was usually a roll of the dice, and the fact that he was practically twitching with pent-up energy probably didn't do much in the way of convincing.

"So what do you want, you gonna give me something else so you can take it away a few days later 'cause you changed your mind again?"

[grahamcommawill]

"The only thing I have to give you right now can't be taken away." Unless he fell into a sudden Barge coma and got amnesia. But that, like the floods that happened on a regular basis, wasn't within his control.

He let that sink in for a second before he continued. "Things have been messed up since you got here. Not really giving you a chance to settle. So, I'm here to answer questions, if you have any. But only if you're going to actually listen."

[notafuckingnut]

Not particularly feeling like being the only one standing, Richie dropped down onto the bed. More comfortable than the cot, but not by a whole lot. "The fuck do you think I'm doing?"

He fell silent, trying to think of which question to ask. He had more than a few, but only one was most pressing.

"Why am I here? And I don't mean that bullshit 'you're here to repent so you can go back home' catchall answer either, I mean why am I here. What did I do that I gotta be here instead of...wherever the fuck normal people go when they're dead?"

[grahamcommawill]

It wasn't unusual for an inmate to play the 'I didn't do anything wrong' act, and while that was partly the case here, Will suspected there was something else. So, he chose his words carefully.

"There's no 'catchall' answer. I wouldn't call it 'repenting' either; that puts a certain religious aspect to things. So far as I can tell, there isn't one. You're here because you've done certain things in your past that indicate you need some help for."

He kept this voice even, without accusations. He wasn't saying Richie was crazy either in tone or words. In his experience, the term was too vague to describe anything. "Do you know what I'm referring to?"

[notafuckingnut]

The way he shifted in his seat, momentarily uneasy, implied that he had at least an inkling, but he shook his head; none of that was ever his fault, no matter how upset it made Seth, and any part that knew otherwise was categorically ignored to the point where he'd long since stopped paying attention.

"Just the robberies...and the liquor store, maybe. But that one wasn't what we set out to do, and it's not like any of it was any worse than what other people've done. A lotta people hold up banks and stuff."

[grahamcommawill]

He noticed the movement. A good sign, sure, but not much of one.

"Robberies, yes, that happens a lot. But what you have done goes beyond that, Richie. I'm not excusing what happened at the liquor store--we'll get to that in a bit. What I'm talking about, and subsequently why you're here, are because of your other crimes." Again waiting to see if he'd catch on.

[notafuckingnut]

Richie shook his head again, more emphatically this time, and sucked in his lips to chew on them in uncertainty. His entire demeanor shifted within the span of a single thought, shoulders dropping and tension loosening as he went from restrained hostility to human puppy in such a seamless transition that it couldn't be said exactly when it had changed.

His next words were quiet, questioning, as if he truly had no idea what Will was talking about.

"What other crimes?"

[grahamcommawill]

The innocent act may have fooled Seth, but not Graham. He waited a moment before continuing, coldly reciting the facts from the file.

"Earl McGraw, sheriff. Innocent bystander, just doing his regular routine. You shot him. I'm sure you remember the clerk, who you believed was signalling Earl. His name was Pete Bottoms. That brings us to Gloria Hill." Will paused, hoping to see any form of recognition with Richie, but he wasn't too hopeful. "Mother of four, she was a bank teller. You and Seth took her hostage. Then-"

He paused, swallowed back the sudden wave of disgust. Had to keep emotions out of it. "Better yet, why don't you tell me what happened?"

[notafuckingnut]

"You read my file." His lips moved, but no sound came out as he processed. He'd read, and then he'd just assumed...

"You read my file." Sounds to accompany words now, but hurt, offended. As if he had somehow assumed it wouldn't happen, that the not-a-shrink, not-a-pig would have waited to hear Richie's side of things before poking around and jumping to conclusions.

He did, Richie reminded himself, but it was cold comfort. He knew what would be in there, he knew the things they'd said about him, even if he wouldn't admit to it out loud. But it wasn't...

"Whatever it said in there, it's wrong, that's not what happened. It wasn't...he was signalling the pig, we were gonna get caught, I couldn't just let that happen. I saw it. All I did was shoot the fucker, the rest was Seth's idea for damage control."

The mention of Gloria, however, seemed to only agitate him further. Fists clenched and he shook his head again. "And the hostage? No, no, don't...don't pin that on me. That was all her fault, I was only doing what I had to

[grahamcommawill]

Will had read through it once, and that was enough. It was memorized, whether he wanted it to be or not. He watched Richie closely, noting the details, his reactions. The denial wasn't too surprising, nor the rationale.

"I'm not pinning that on you," The file did that for him already. "If you say that's what happened, then it is." Carefully omitting the word 'believe' from the statement. There was no doubt in his mind Richie believed he was telling the truth, had convinced himself of it. "How were you defending yourself from her?"

[notafuckingnut]

His next words were careful, deliberate. Weighted to make his explanation clear, eliminate all uncertainty; if it sounded rehearsed, it's because it was, the story repeated to himself over and over until he couldn't remember which was the truth and which was the fabrication. "Seth left, and she just flipped the fuck out. She lost it, she became a completely different person. I was just sitting there, watching TV, she was supposed to be sitting in the other room quietly, an' she just...

She was gonna kill me. She was gonna kill me, then she was gonna escape an' go for the cops; I didn't have a choice, okay? It wasn't my fault."

[grahamcommawill]

The rehearsed quality was obvious from the start. Again reinforcing his theory that Richie made himself believe what he wanted. Will waited only a moment after Richie finished before he said, "Bullshit." Clear and to the point.

He continued, "Her hands were tied. You invited her in with you. A woman like that wouldn't have 'just' attacked."

[notafuckingnut]

"'A woman like'...?" He scoffed, but it sounded forced; he knew he was right, why didn't Graham believe him?

...Because of the file. The file said something else, the file lied, and of course that was all Will had to go on.

"I didn't. She just attacked, just like I said. No warning or anything; you weren't there, you didn't see it happen. The bitch went nuts, she musta figured out how to get free or something, I dunno, but I'm telling you the truth. People snap, yanno? It happens." There was a desperate edge to his words now, almost pleading; he needed Will to believe him on this.

[grahamcommawill]

"No, it doesn't just happen, Richard. Not like that." He stopped, tight-lipped, obviously keeping himself from saying more.

This wasn't the best way to progress. It wasn't possible to convince his inmate of the actual truth. If it was, it wouldn't be in this meeting.

"Okay. You're... right. I wasn't there. The file wasn't specific. I really don't have all the details." Blatant lie buried in a half-truth. Those were the best ones.