. 36

[grahamcommawill]

[Audio clicks on. Will sounds mostly back to normal. Still broody as ever but now with an added dash of HOLY FUCK I'M TIRED. Stress from the recovery, cleaning his cabin to get looking at least normal, even if it doesn't really feel the same...? Yeah, it's kind of taken its toll.]I went into a Barge coma about two weeks ago. The last thing I

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[notafuckingnut]

[If Will didn't expect it, Richie certainly wasn't about to follow through. He'd considered not going at all, but he figured if he didn't he would only end up with a warden in his room anyway. So why the fuck not.

So he barges in without so much as a warning, keyed up past twitching and practically itching for a fight.]

So first you show up outside my room after it locks itself and ask me what my problem is, like the shit this fucking place does is my fault. Then you jump in on something like you're actually involved and get on MY ass for somebody else's bullshit when all I said was that he needs to keep out of other people's shit. And then you say you didn't show a guy my file, but he's accusing me of shit that I know for a fact is in there and isn't something I go around sharing. [He glares at Will in challenge, just daring him to do something.] So go ahead. What'd I do now.

[Because come on. The ONLY reason he could possibly be here is for a lecture, might as well get it over with now; the sooner he gets it the sooner

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[grahamcommawill]

[Will only moves his head to look at him. Where Richie is energetic, Will is the extreme opposite. Hardly about to lecture, let alone match his shouting. So much wrong with practically everything Richie said, he's not even sure where to begin

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[notafuckingnut]

[He does as asked not because it's a request patterned like an order, or because it's Will making it, but because it catches him off-guard. He expects shouting and shoving because he knows he handled it badly and experience says that's what follows, but this...sharing and calm is something new, and he finds himself moving to comply before he can shut the actions down.

So he compensates by skulking, by doing as requested but following it up with a staring match, a caged animal determined not to relinquish what upper hand it has, no matter how small or brief.]

And what exactly is it I'm going to do?

[Body language says beat the crap out of somebody, but he's careful not to admit as much. He downs the shot, somehow making the gesture mocking, like Will's forcing him into it, before continuing.]

Last time you said it wasn't you I ended up locked in my room for something that wasn't my fault. What's it gonna be this time? And...if you didn't say anything then how'd the fuck he know about my record?

[...Lucky guess based on ample

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[grahamcommawill]

[Will watches him through half-lidded eyes. Tense, but staying put. That was good. He had some shred of control over him, though limited. He sets his empty glass on the table, near the bottle, but doesn't reach for said bottle. He'll leave his inmate in charge of the alcohol. An impulse move that is either very foolish, or very clever, he'll figure it out after his hopefully hangover tomorrow.]

Seems like the majority of our time is spent with someone who isn't me. Flood, or shapeshifters, or... [A vague hand wave.] Who the hell knows? It's the damn barge. Point is, its less time to actually help you.

[Curious head tilt.] What, exactly, does he know about you?

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[notafuckingnut]

[Richie refills his own glass but doesn't touch it yet, leaving Will's glass empty. He leans back in the chair, the pretense of relaxed but badly faked; he's too stiff, like he could launch himself across the table at any moment, or make for the door. But he doesn't, only glances around the room, a wary, watchful gaze that one not familiar with the man's utter lack of tact and foresight might classify as "calculating", before returning it to Will fully.]

It's public domain. You saw. [Accusing; Will had to have, he couldn't have avoided it if he was watching it closely enough to intervene. Richie won't say the word, it makes him uncomfortable because it's not true, at least not in his mind. But then, he's always been exceptionally good at concealing the truth, particularly from himself.]

What do you think I'm gonna do? [More insistent this time; he's not dropping it.]

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[grahamcommawill]

[Will glances at his glass, his empty glass, but doesn't say anything. He wasn't drunk yet, and that was good, but he wanted to be, which wasn't so good. Bad time to play a power game, he decided, but he wouldn't take it back now. He settled more comfortably on the couch, hands folded on his torso, feet hanging off the edge a little.]

He called you a rapist. Yes, I saw. That's an accusation only. A vague term he stuck to because you reacted to it. [The slightest pause.] If you left here, right now, you'd go after him. It would be messy. Later, you would say it had to be done. Maybe say he attacked you. That's what you would do. It'd be a mess for both of us. Right now? I couldn't deal with that.

So. What you're going to do is stay here, all night if you have to, I don't give a shit. We're going to drink, and talk. I don't care about what, to be honest. Whatever. Just talk. No lectures, no warden bullshit. That sound like a plan to you?

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[notafuckingnut]

[..And now he just looks confused. It sounds like a trick, it feels like a trick. A DEMAND that he be here, and...booze. No lectures, no reprimands. He eyes Will narrowly, skeptical.]

...That's it. You're not gonna do anything about...anything, you just want to drink?

[It's not a complaint exactly, more an attempt to figure out the angle.]

But...he's saying shit. I didn't...whatever he was saying isn't true. And you're saying you're not gonna do anything.

[Well...fine. He downs his drink and refills it...and still isn't refilling yours. It's a test. Give him an inch and he will take however many miles he can get away with, Will.]

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[grahamcommawill]

[...Oh. Fine. Have the whole bottle, Richie. It's not like he'd finally settled all cozy into the couch or anything. Will grumbly gets himself up. He's not really in pain, but it sure feels like. He goes to the kitchen to retrieve another bottle, just for himself.]

You want me to do something about him? Like what? [Digging around in the fridge. Of course it'd be way in the back, that's the way of it.] I can't call him a liar. I can ask that he refrain from causing problems, but that wouldn't stick.

[Returning to the couch, slumps down. He'll take his glass back now, thanks. A glass that's finally getting refilled. He drinks it down, but not as fast as the other one, watching Richie. That other bottle? All yours.]

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[notafuckingnut]

[Shifting in his seat to get comfortable, then a pointed look at Will when he gets back, one that's at least half sneer.]

Then let me do it; he'll quit being a little shit like that if you let me handle it. He's a punk, he can't...he can't say shit like that for no reason.

[Because evidently creeping on Claire habitually isn't a reason.

...Like he won't just go behind Will's back and take things up with Jesse personally later anyway.]

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[grahamcommawill]

The way you'd handle it wouldn't solve anything. It'd only cause more problems. He wouldn't stop anything, only get worse.

[Nope, not a lecture, only pointing out the obvious. Settles back into his previous comfortable position.]

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[notafuckingnut]

[Not sulking in the least.]

Says you.

[And down the hatch the booze goes. Decisions can only get worse from here.]

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[grahamcommawill]

[Pouring another.] Says my years of experience dealing with two guys who are too opinionated to know when to let shit die. Top that.

[Another shot down. Oh yeah, definitely feeling the buzz now.]

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[notafuckingnut]

...But it'd make me feel a hell of a lot better. And that trumps...whatever you've got.

[Which is clearly the better choice. He almost holds out his glass for Will to refill before he remembers that he has his own bottle now. He's already past buzzed, but it's hard to tell unless you're looking; he's much more relaxed than he was when he got here.]

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[grahamcommawill]

Booze is making you feel better already.

[Will is looking, and notices, and he feels kinda good that his not-really-a-plan plan is sorta working. But, whatever, that thought doesn't linger.]

You attack him, his warden gets involved, then I have to get involved, and explain why you're drunk. A whole lot of questions and accusations, all pointed my way and it's really something I'd rather avoid right now.

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[notafuckingnut]

[He shakes his head, more methodical and insistent about it than the gesture actually merits. A false start with a palm against the cushion and he's upright, on his feet, and a few careful, determined steps bring him to Will's seat of choice. Hope you don't mind a Richie next to you Will, because you're getting one whether you like it or not, and an at least half unbalanced one at that.

He shakes his head again, just to make his point clear.]

Not the same thing. That just...quiets everything. I still want to kick his fucking face in.

[Fff. And now he can't reach his glass. ...Not that he's trying particularly hard. Dammit. Oh well, he'll get it...later.]

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[grahamcommawill]

[Will watches his unsteady progress, ready to stand and help him.. somehow. But he doesn't need to, which is good, because right now he's not really sure he'd be the most steady on his feet either. Then.. personal space, or lack thereof. No, no, he doesn't mind it. Maybe its the booze, or still feeling the aftereffects of the coma, but the closeness? Fine by him.

He even partly stands, gripping the table for support and reaching over to retrieve your glass. Not yet filling it though. Slumps back down. Its a three-cushion couch, and there could be one between them, but Will doesn't move away. They're shoulder to shoulder and he thinks nothing of it.]

I know you do. I get that. I understand what you want to. He called you a name and you're upset by it. You want to lash out. You don't think I want to do the same to the shapeshifter? I do.. but I don't. Guess why.

[Not a trick question, Richie. Don't think too hard on it.]