[The look on Will's face is nothing short of Emotional Constipation. No one had ever really asked that before. Will was always just...he had dogs. It was a Thing. His Thing. Everyone knew. Everyone also knew he was a secluded, isolated, antisocial loner and so it was best to leave him alone with anything too invasive or personal.]
Uh—no. [Constipation covered up by putting the treat bag away and giving BB more attention because yes, that's one joy of dogs in his life, he can ignore Unhappy Feelings and focus on petting a dog.] I had a nice stretch of land in Virginia. People'd drop off dogs they didn't want nearby. It was open, not a lot of traffic...nobody's gonna see them dumping a dog off. [His tone is Factual, no trace of upset or bitterness or anything else.] Finding good homes for the cute ones was possible, sure, but most people didn't want mutts. Or older dogs. Dogs with health issues. The, uh, ugly leftover riffraff, if you will. So they stayed. And more were dropped off. And more stayed. And then the living room was full of dog beds and I never had to worry about anyone stopping by without me being aware of them first.
[Dogs also never made promises they broke. They didn't barrage him with questions about how his day was, how was he feeling, when he was going to do this or that or the other. They never told him he looked tired, or worn, or in need of a break. They just laid down for a scratch and all was well.]
[This isn't the story he was expecting, to be honest. He was expecting more of a whole, oh, you know, I always had a dog growing up, and once I moved out, I knew I had to have one for my home too... But this makes even more sense, from what he knows of Will. Whether they had fur or not, Will's always been the sort to speak his mind, quite sensibly, and use that very same sensibility to take in strays of all kinds. He's certainly taken Jaime underneath his wing too, in his own, funny sort of way.]
I don't understand how people can do that. They were lucky to have you around, huh? [He offers Will a small smile.] I always thought you lived in the big city, though.
[Big city? Him? What? Confusion flashes over his face just long enough for him to realize the obvious: Baltimore. Before him, there was Frederick Chilton and Abel Gideon, who could claim Baltimore as their home. He came, and he was asked if he was from Baltimore as well. Eventually it became easier to just toss the name out there. That city held their particular devil, tied them all together with an ugly bow of blood and pain and betrayal.]
Oh—no, no. I didn't live there. Worked there a few times. My psychiatrist's office and home was in Baltimore, too. Spent a lot of time in the city. [Except for when he was incarcerated, literally time served in Baltimore. Good stuff. Will finally moves to stand with the help of the counter, holding BB close to his chest as he does so like the strength of a dog will carry him through any awkwardness with grace and ease.] It's nice to meet you, little guy. [He...actually shakes the dog's paw before a gentle ear ruffling and being set back down.] Hope the food's up to snuff. You can let me know if it isn't. It's not rude, feedback.
[Jaime looks a little bewildered about the sudden change in conversation, about the way Will's stood up like his ass is on fire, ready to bid BB adieu and fly out the door. He's not going to stop him, but it's weird. Jaime's observant enough to know that he knows very little about Will's life back home, but questions as innocuous as why do you like dogs and where did you live usually don't spur this kind of reaction even from the most secretive of folks. He looks between BB and Will, perplexed.]
You, um... you don't like talking about home, huh? You don't have to. I mean, if you don't want to answer any questions, you can just... not.
[Which is to say, he doesn't have to just change the subject and fly out the door.]
[Ah. Caught. Well. He hadn't been subtle, he supposes. Will has a properly shamed moment, looking at the dog.]
Shouldn't have put you down. [Telltale sign, alas. It can't be helped. If he didn't put down BB soon, he might not have been able to put him down at all, and Jaime had been through enough without dog theft. But he can't be fake mad at a dog for long, and so he looks back up and shrugs one shoulder.] It's not that I don't like. My home. Or talking about it. It's...there's not a lot to talk about. Not a lot that's easy to digest [o no] for people who aren't from there. I barely talk about it with April. Just don't wanna...
[His tone, the hesitant look, it's far more reminiscent of a teenager with self-esteem issues than a grown man. That's how bad Baltimore is (at least probably to great folks like Jaime).]
Well... I don't know how much you have to worry about worrying me. That sounds funny. [They're in a jamjar; their lives are a constant cycle of worrying, because evidently nobody here has it 100% easy, and those who did, no longer have that luxury. He knows that Will had connections to a serial killer (and one heck of a serial killer at that), knows that he's dead, knows that he wound up killing Hannibal in turn... that seems like plenty to him. What else is Will hiding?]
I'd rather you just say what you wanna say, you know? But I've had plenty of friends who just don't wanna talk about, like, anything from home. At all. And I can respect that too, so long as it's what they really want.
[Unspoken: so long as it's what you really want.
But being secretive about things like the city you're from? That just sounds exhausting to Jaime.]
[Will's quiet, watching Jaime with all the attentiveness usually reserved for students desperately trying to be top of the class. And that "you caught me" vibe vanishes the more Jaime speaks, replaced by all-too-real smile. Tension is gone; in its place is relief and another reminder of a realization he had long ago.
So maybe the kid isn't great with wordplay or banter. So fucking what. He's observant, and quick with his observations, and better yet, he's gentle with bringing them to light. Like being awoken by softly tinkling wind chimes instead of having cymbals clashed right next to an already sensitive ear. He wonders who else sees this side of Jaime. Who picks up on it. And, always, hopes no one who'd use it to their advantage gets a look at him. The real him. Jaime's is a rare type of goodness that needs to be present and encouraged, not warped or slaughtered. He's quiet after, that dumb smile on his face, and then finally:]
Whatever your job is paying you isn't enough. [Praise delivered with Utmost Fondness. Perhaps it seems abrupt, a bizarre change of topic to get away from Will himself, but the confidence behind his words is as genuine and steady as marble steps.] I will keep it in mind and do that from now on. It was never my intention to disrespect you—but you realize this is one of those it's not you it's me issues, don't you.
[Not a question. A valid point. A good point. Evidence Jaime is likely the smartest mechanic in that garage.]
I'm pretty sure they're paying me enough, [Jaime says, with the air of bewilderment of one who's really not entirely certain what Will means, or what Jaime's mechanical skills have to do with what they're talking about now. He gets the fondness in his voice, and it's enough to make him smile, but it's with the air of a dog who's just been told that he's a good boy; they're very happy with the praise, even if they haven't the foggiest where it's coming from. Who's a good mechanic? You are, Jaime!]
It's not really a respect thing. I mean, it kind of is, but that wasn't really my point. My point was... well, mostly that if you ever felt comfortable enough talking about stuff from your home, don't feel like you can't. I've heard plenty, by now.
[The best mechanic. He deserves all the ear scratches, belly rubs, snacks, walkies, and cuddles anyone can provide. And also a raise. Of like, double what he makes now. But there is no perfect world like that. So depressing.]
I'm sure you have. You've got quite the group of people around you. [So many imPorts love that Jaime Reyes, and so many of them come from worlds where Fucked Up barely begins to cover it. Maybe cannibalism isn't really the worst thing Jaime would have heard, but it's still rather foul. Fouler still Will kept broing it up with Big Daddy Cannibal. Like hell he discusses that with literally anyone, though, much less Pure Sunshine Jaime Reyes.] Maybe in the future. It's—you have stuff from home you don't talk about with anyone, don't you?
[No judgment in his tone, just simple curiosity. Stuff beyond the usual teenage embarrassment. Stuff that doesn't seem to matter, or stuff that matters so much he could nearly choke with horror at the thought anyone would find out. Good people have seen some shit, too. Have been influenced by it. Have worries, and fears, and everything else under the sun.]
[He talks about it with some people, to be fair, but he avoids the topic even with people who know his secret. It's not an active avoidance, per se, but one he indulges in, for a variety of reasons, the biggest among them being that they either seem so small compared to theirs, or they're deeply, intensely private. Sometimes a combination of the two, but really, it's hard to say things like my dad's garage got shut down after I left and it makes me feel bad sometimes to someone who's dealing with the apocalypse, or...
A lot of apocalypses, actually. It's a little distressing how there are so many Earths out that have experienced world-ending consequences in one form or another.]
But it's not -- I mean, I'm not from one of those worlds with zombies. Most of it's just small stuff.
[This place has a way of making even people from the bleakest worlds feel grateful, it's true. Spend enough time with Titan-plagued teenagers and it's difficult not to miss the simplicity and advancements of home, with or without rampant murderers.]
Small stuff matters. [A quiet, tame observation. Zombies also have the advantage of making it easier for those with many small problems to cover them up. Sort of like Will with cannibalistic dudes in love with him. Everything pales in comparison to that and it's a trump card to get out of talking about basic things, like why he loves dogs or his issues with where he did or did not live when it came to Baltimore.
He raps quietly on the counter with his knuckles before stepping away. It's not the sudden awkwardness that's got him ready to leave, though it's easily read that way.] Not what I expected coming over today, but. I'm glad you...we had this talk.
[Jaime's honestly not sure what to make of this whole conversation, not even after they've been fairly honest with each other. It's not a normal conversation for them; they're usually happy talking about smaller, happier things, about this place, about work, and their lives, and school. That's not always such a good thing, even if Jaime's happy with his comfortable relationship with Will.
But he won't push it anymore than he already has. He's pretty happy that Will didn't just up and bolt the first time he pushed back.]
Me too. [He smiles at him.] Thanks for the food, Will. Really, I appreciate it.
You're welcome. [He smiles back. And wonders, too...if Jaime knew more about Baltimore, would he be so eager for free food from Will Graham? Would there be Concerns? The only one who's seemed to have any problem so far is Dorian...but that's a whole other can of worms. What if he just never found out? That would be great. Wonder about it and nothing more. Yes. Perfect.] Take care of yourself, yeah? I'll see you soon.
[For some new artistic endeavor. Or a chat. Or, like, if BB gets sick in the morning and Jaime calls up in a panic. All is well.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2016-06-26 10:04 pm (UTC)Uh—no. [Constipation covered up by putting the treat bag away and giving BB more attention because yes, that's one joy of dogs in his life, he can ignore Unhappy Feelings and focus on petting a dog.] I had a nice stretch of land in Virginia. People'd drop off dogs they didn't want nearby. It was open, not a lot of traffic...nobody's gonna see them dumping a dog off. [His tone is Factual, no trace of upset or bitterness or anything else.] Finding good homes for the cute ones was possible, sure, but most people didn't want mutts. Or older dogs. Dogs with health issues. The, uh, ugly leftover riffraff, if you will. So they stayed. And more were dropped off. And more stayed. And then the living room was full of dog beds and I never had to worry about anyone stopping by without me being aware of them first.
[Dogs also never made promises they broke. They didn't barrage him with questions about how his day was, how was he feeling, when he was going to do this or that or the other. They never told him he looked tired, or worn, or in need of a break. They just laid down for a scratch and all was well.]
no subject
Date: 2016-06-28 05:52 am (UTC)I don't understand how people can do that. They were lucky to have you around, huh? [He offers Will a small smile.] I always thought you lived in the big city, though.
no subject
Date: 2016-06-28 10:22 pm (UTC)Oh—no, no. I didn't live there. Worked there a few times. My psychiatrist's office and home was in Baltimore, too. Spent a lot of time in the city. [Except for when he was incarcerated, literally time served in Baltimore. Good stuff. Will finally moves to stand with the help of the counter, holding BB close to his chest as he does so like the strength of a dog will carry him through any awkwardness with grace and ease.] It's nice to meet you, little guy. [He...actually shakes the dog's paw before a gentle ear ruffling and being set back down.] Hope the food's up to snuff. You can let me know if it isn't. It's not rude, feedback.
no subject
Date: 2016-06-29 04:03 am (UTC)[Jaime looks a little bewildered about the sudden change in conversation, about the way Will's stood up like his ass is on fire, ready to bid BB adieu and fly out the door. He's not going to stop him, but it's weird. Jaime's observant enough to know that he knows very little about Will's life back home, but questions as innocuous as why do you like dogs and where did you live usually don't spur this kind of reaction even from the most secretive of folks. He looks between BB and Will, perplexed.]
You, um... you don't like talking about home, huh? You don't have to. I mean, if you don't want to answer any questions, you can just... not.
[Which is to say, he doesn't have to just change the subject and fly out the door.]
no subject
Date: 2016-06-29 04:37 am (UTC)Shouldn't have put you down. [Telltale sign, alas. It can't be helped. If he didn't put down BB soon, he might not have been able to put him down at all, and Jaime had been through enough without dog theft. But he can't be fake mad at a dog for long, and so he looks back up and shrugs one shoulder.] It's not that I don't like. My home. Or talking about it. It's...there's not a lot to talk about. Not a lot that's easy to digest [o no] for people who aren't from there. I barely talk about it with April. Just don't wanna...
[His tone, the hesitant look, it's far more reminiscent of a teenager with self-esteem issues than a grown man. That's how bad Baltimore is (at least probably to great folks like Jaime).]
...worry anybody.
[Worry, horrify, same thing.]
no subject
Date: 2016-06-30 12:24 am (UTC)I'd rather you just say what you wanna say, you know? But I've had plenty of friends who just don't wanna talk about, like, anything from home. At all. And I can respect that too, so long as it's what they really want.
[Unspoken: so long as it's what you really want.
But being secretive about things like the city you're from? That just sounds exhausting to Jaime.]
no subject
Date: 2016-06-30 08:25 pm (UTC)So maybe the kid isn't great with wordplay or banter. So fucking what. He's observant, and quick with his observations, and better yet, he's gentle with bringing them to light. Like being awoken by softly tinkling wind chimes instead of having cymbals clashed right next to an already sensitive ear. He wonders who else sees this side of Jaime. Who picks up on it. And, always, hopes no one who'd use it to their advantage gets a look at him. The real him. Jaime's is a rare type of goodness that needs to be present and encouraged, not warped or slaughtered. He's quiet after, that dumb smile on his face, and then finally:]
Whatever your job is paying you isn't enough. [Praise delivered with Utmost Fondness. Perhaps it seems abrupt, a bizarre change of topic to get away from Will himself, but the confidence behind his words is as genuine and steady as marble steps.] I will keep it in mind and do that from now on. It was never my intention to disrespect you—but you realize this is one of those it's not you it's me issues, don't you.
[Not a question. A valid point. A good point. Evidence Jaime is likely the smartest mechanic in that garage.]
no subject
Date: 2016-07-01 07:14 am (UTC)It's not really a respect thing. I mean, it kind of is, but that wasn't really my point. My point was... well, mostly that if you ever felt comfortable enough talking about stuff from your home, don't feel like you can't. I've heard plenty, by now.
no subject
Date: 2016-07-04 08:01 pm (UTC)I'm sure you have. You've got quite the group of people around you. [So many imPorts love that Jaime Reyes, and so many of them come from worlds where Fucked Up barely begins to cover it. Maybe cannibalism isn't really the worst thing Jaime would have heard, but it's still rather foul. Fouler still Will kept broing it up with Big Daddy Cannibal. Like hell he discusses that with literally anyone, though, much less Pure Sunshine Jaime Reyes.] Maybe in the future. It's—you have stuff from home you don't talk about with anyone, don't you?
[No judgment in his tone, just simple curiosity. Stuff beyond the usual teenage embarrassment. Stuff that doesn't seem to matter, or stuff that matters so much he could nearly choke with horror at the thought anyone would find out. Good people have seen some shit, too. Have been influenced by it. Have worries, and fears, and everything else under the sun.]
no subject
Date: 2016-07-05 03:26 am (UTC)[He talks about it with some people, to be fair, but he avoids the topic even with people who know his secret. It's not an active avoidance, per se, but one he indulges in, for a variety of reasons, the biggest among them being that they either seem so small compared to theirs, or they're deeply, intensely private. Sometimes a combination of the two, but really, it's hard to say things like my dad's garage got shut down after I left and it makes me feel bad sometimes to someone who's dealing with the apocalypse, or...
A lot of apocalypses, actually. It's a little distressing how there are so many Earths out that have experienced world-ending consequences in one form or another.]
But it's not -- I mean, I'm not from one of those worlds with zombies. Most of it's just small stuff.
no subject
Date: 2016-07-06 08:14 pm (UTC)Small stuff matters. [A quiet, tame observation. Zombies also have the advantage of making it easier for those with many small problems to cover them up. Sort of like Will with cannibalistic dudes in love with him. Everything pales in comparison to that and it's a trump card to get out of talking about basic things, like why he loves dogs or his issues with where he did or did not live when it came to Baltimore.
He raps quietly on the counter with his knuckles before stepping away. It's not the sudden awkwardness that's got him ready to leave, though it's easily read that way.] Not what I expected coming over today, but. I'm glad you...we had this talk.
[Awkward but sincere, let him live.]
no subject
Date: 2016-07-07 07:50 am (UTC)But he won't push it anymore than he already has. He's pretty happy that Will didn't just up and bolt the first time he pushed back.]
Me too. [He smiles at him.] Thanks for the food, Will. Really, I appreciate it.
no subject
Date: 2016-07-07 05:57 pm (UTC)[For some new artistic endeavor. Or a chat. Or, like, if BB gets sick in the morning and Jaime calls up in a panic. All is well.]