The Master | Saxon Era (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
standsonhigh) wrote2016-11-23 08:44 pm
standsonhigh) wrote2016-11-23 08:44 pm
IC inbox | Asgard
Hello, I'm not available at this current time. Leave a message and I'll get back to you.
Hello, I'm not available at this current time. Leave a message and I'll get back to you.
text forever, etc.
[What has Barty told you?]
I'm in Sigyn, so tell me what your kind of flower is to your liking and I'll have some made. Chocolates are also doable. Location is up to you, obviously, but I've made my suggestions.
There's a 24 hour cancellation policy with most psychiatric services offered. If we plan it right here and now, you'll be set and won't miss your new addition.
ditto
[Not much, he's very secretive about his special friends. But that doesn't mean he's in the dark. You're not the only one that stalks people of note on the network, Will.]
I like daffodils. And I'm very open minded with dessert. I'll be in Sigyn in an hour.
I suppose I can postpone my first meeting. Perhaps your company will help me cope for just one night more, I've been so lonely and agonised as of late.
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[That's the end of it on Will's side of things, and then he is, yes, in the kitchen. People in Sigyn should, by now, expect a few things from him, the main one being he's always got a dog. He doesn't really use eye contact so much. He keeps mostly to himself. There may be some odd noises that aren't really dog sounds but are similar, but no one needs to know he's keeping a direwolf in his room whenever Grey Wind wants bacon instead of hunting on his own. If he's in the kitchen, he's either cooking bacon in large quantities for dogs, or he's making something with fish. If anyone has ever paid much attention, they might notice the only animal he eats is fish, because the one time he tried fowl, it didn't go so well. As far as Will is concerned, seafood has an extremely obvious taste and texture, so there's no way it can really be duplicated with anything else. For a man who's trying to fight off the fact that he's going to a hospital for the criminally insane on charges that he's murdered and cannibalized young women, he needs all the comfort he can get.
That's what he cooks for the Master (is that what he's expected to call him, honestly?). It's grilled, freshwater, closest thing to bass he's come across, caught himself, with all the accoutrements that could be wanted, capers and cherry tomatoes and shallots. Obviously, Will hasn't spared anything with this. A date? Hardly, but it could really look like one if it's read into that he's gone out of way. He hasn't. He makes his own food, a similarity to a certain someone he's well aware exists. The table? Oh yes, it has a little display of daffodils he's not at all bothered to have asked for, but dessert is a mystery. His shirt is a terrible plaid pattern, and really—if the Master's heard the phrase "dad clothes" that would probably be the first thought when he sees him. There's nothing much that could be seen as intimidating about him at first glance, though it's been said that he contains a certain brand of hostility that might be a little alarming should anyone get on the wrong end of it.
Granted, the person who said it did everything she could to get on his bad side, but he couldn't deny that, sometimes, he could be a little cagey. Cagey and later to be put in a cage. Did Lecter find that idea delicious?
He's in there still, everything already cooked and kept warm on the stove, a dog neither large nor small and a shade that's just off white laying nearby like he owns the entire house, like any spot he decides to claim for himself is actually his. He's so relaxed, sleeping, splayed out without a care in the world. Will, however, has every care in the world, for Alana while trying to keep any for himself at bay. What has he heard, what does he know?
Or thinks he knows. No one here really knows the full story, not even Abigail. Infuriatingly, Will doesn't know it all himself, and he cannot stand it. The moment he hears footsteps his way, he has to keep his shoulders from tensing (he'd been stabbed, been shot, it wasn't always easy to do) while trying to seem completely casual like they both don't know the reason behind it, and he leans against the counter when he turns, hands clenching it loosely in an attempt to keep him from crossing his arms and coming across as hostile. Cagey. Unwilling to speak honestly and not caring if that much is obvious.]
So. [It's loud enough just to be heard by dog and this new person he's not all that eager to have possibly trying to pick his head apart, but just the three of them. Physically, at any rate. That little voice in his head hears everything.] Are you...the Master, or are you Harold Saxon? You can call me Harry. Which is it you prefer?
[Looked around? Done a bit of homework? Of course he has. He's a teacher. He's more than familiar with research, and this time around, he's won't be avoiding eye contact. Not. At. All.]
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He knocks, because he's a polite man in his own ways, and waits patiently for the door to open. And when it is, he immediately scans his new setting rather than his host, though there is a friendly smile plastered on his face. After all, he was in more danger from his new location than some tryhard hero any day. As far as it stood on first inspection, the greatest risk here? The dog. Which he really hoped wasn't either friendly or vicious. He didn't particularly like dealing with animals, they were always so revolting and they got hair everywhere.]
It all depends on what you want to call me, doesn't it? [The Master shrugs in disinterest, finally making eye contact with his friend for the evening.] Most opt for Harry because we're all so terribly informal here. And I find it puts less people off. My title often sets people back and I can hardly blame them, it is a little grand.
[But well earned. The Master of all matter, perhaps not right now but eventually. He'd done it before, several times, it was all just about perfecting it now. Making it stick so he didn't lose his hold. Of course, he'd be so much better at that if he could stop self-sabotaging his victories. Sometimes it was hard, getting what he wanted.
Perhaps his new therapist could help with that?]
And you're Will. No mystery there, all nice and simple. Very human.
[He moves into the room rather happily, hands in his pockets, taking a peek towards the kitchen to make sure dinner was actually cooking and this wasn't just some pointless trap or clever ruse.]
So, tell me, whatever did I do to earn this high honour?
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Lecter didn't seem the type to throw out threats either. He just acted.
If Will was called a hero to his face, he'd honestly have no idea what to make of it. A hero. Him? Nah. As for the dog, he's too busy being passed out and probably dreaming of bacon and baths and nearly kicking Will off the bed as he sprawls out than anything else. He's too busy to go running around licking fingers or biting ankles, the lazy mutt.
Will doesn't mind not being the immediate focus, always preferring to be in the background if he can help it. Now, he can't. Not with Alana here and not knowing people, and Will realizing he doesn't know much about the Master, either. He holds eye contact for a moment, listens to him talking about titles, and turns to more towards the kitchen and start putting everything on plates. Listening, but doing something like hosting at the same time. Is this hosting? Hell, he's not Lecter. That voice in his head would be a little handier if it would start shucking out some advice on the whole matter. When had he ever been truly helpful, though? Starting now would reflect more on Will than anyone else. Best it doesn't.]
I've got a few titles back home myself, but they don't really transfer worlds. Special Investigator. [Does the Master know what that means? Does anyone other than law enforcement pick up on it? Hell if he knows, and he's not going to explain it if he doesn't have to, and not even in full detail.] I'm not bothered by titles. I run in a circle that has plenty of doctors, and it's rude to refuse them that. [Even if they're assholes.] The Master's just a little overwhelming, isn't it? Grand, as you said. Raises the hairs on the back of the neck, the connotations that come with it considered.
[He's seen Lecter pick up plates in the most impressive of ways, and he's not so bad at replicating it. He's not a gourmet chef or a waiter by any means of it, definitely not, but he manages not to look like he's an idiot in the kitchen when he sets them both down and starts tugging his sleeves back down as he doesn't have anything to worry about them getting stuck in. Very human, Will. He'll ignore it for now.]
Not sure it's an honor, and I'm not sure what you might think about earning it. We've simply got a mutual acquaintance and I thought it best we talked. He's had a rough time lately. I'm a little worried. [And Alana. He's sure that goes without saying, but was the Master expecting Barty to be a catalyst for this, too?] Please, sit. We've got water and I've made sweet tea, but there's also coffee and...yes, the hot tea on the stove. I followed directions. I don't make it at home.
[Hot tea is dirty water.]
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[There was a mocking drawl to his comments, he couldn't of been less genuine about that if he tried. In his experience, humans trying to police laws were just an annoying pest that got in the way and added to the body count.]
Really? My name does all that? Well, my apologies but I can't help my title. It just came to me, it wasn't really a choice. [Well... it was. But Time Lords usually picked the name that fit the best and at the time, nothing struck him as more fitting. In that moment before he'd been consumed by a black hole, he'd truly been the Master of everything. No other name had suited him nor fit into the way he saw his life and purpose from that point onwards. But, like all his wonderful moments, it had been ruined.
By a certain someone who will remain nameless but be obvious regardless.]
It is rather overwhelming, hence why I give the option of Harry. I find it's friendlier.
[The Master takes a seat as instructed, watching Will do whatever it is he's doing in the kitchen. The Master isn't overly bothered. As long as he doesn't get poisoned, he's not expected more than a fairly mediocre dinner.] I'll just have water, thanks. I find few people can make tea right, it's always been a source of annoyance of mine. I'd rather not tempt a bad batch.
[It's said with humour in his tone but it's a true annoyance of his. He used to throw badly made tea in the makers face way back when, just to teach them a little lesson. Oh how he missed being king some days. And hey, hot tea is not dirt. That's coffee, my friend.]
Mutual acquaintance? Do enlighten me, who might that be? I've several acquaintances here, I can't be expected to know every one we share.
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[It's fact, nothing more. There's no gloating, no trying to be impressive. This is Will's resume. It's what he'd put on anything that required it, and there's no motivation in him right now to lie about anything. A few secrets here and there, but his career isn't one of them. It comes out honestly, openly, even as his eyebrows furrow at the idea of tea being made poorly. It's not a personal insult, he realizes, but what, then, makes hot tea good? Is there some secret ingredient?
"For" the Bureau. Getting called back. Oh no, that was not Will's choice. He didn't want it. He hated it, but one does what he must when he can't stand the outcome of lives taken when he could have prevented it. Hero? Not really. Selfish, he'd argue.
Water is gotten without any difficulty, and he moves to sit across from Harry, posture in his chair as relaxed as he can make it. That one bad shoulder may seem a little tense, but he has a good reason for it. He was shot, for Christ's sake.]
All that said, I can say I don't mind the dry spell. It's a relief. It's not like I was getting into retirement back home anytime soon. [Retirement? No. Not quite. Something else, though. He tilts his head, leans back, takes a good, long look at him. There's no antlers here. Hopefully it stays that way.] Barty Crouch. I've seen you speaking. Very friendly, or so appearances make it seem. And what you said to Professor Snape shooed me in that direction further. Barty and I have run into each other a few times and keep up. After that entire disaster where his family issues were dragged out so mercilessly, I was a little concerned about his well-being.
[Is it a mind game? Maybe. Maybe it's just chess. Maybe it's just Will talking while the food cools down enough so he can stand it without burning the hair off his tongue.
So many maybes, and not one Junior to be found. Barty doesn't like it, so Will doesn't use it. The idea of calling someone dangerous something they don't like smacks of pure and utter stupidity to him. He's done some stupid things, but provoking people in Asgard with histories and magic that might be impossible for him to really combat in a physical fight?
That's so mind-numbingly stupid it's just insane.]
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[He was never that interested in the working side of the citizens of Asgard. Jobs are jobs and while they tell a lot, they usually tell him the things he doesn't want to know. He does take note but don't get him wrong. It's all worth knowing and keeping in his head under that neat little folder all about Will. But right now? He didn't make a big issue of it.]
I would suggest going back into retirement but I wouldn't advise it here. Maybe one day, eh? [The Master sips his water, wishing he was still on top game in moments like these. When he was a Time Lord, he could tell he was poisoned and work it out of his system in seconds. Now? He just had to trust this one just wasn't dumb enough to try anything. He didn't think he was but the potential was always there now.]
Me and Barty? Eh, we get on, if that's what you mean. [They share a room, spend most their time together and have a strange sort of platonic marriage going on. But yeah, no, totally just sort of meh together. Legit truth.] Your concern for him is incredibly endearing but considering it happened on a post where he was trying to expose the past of another man, it would be rather dumb of him not to expect the same back. After all, if you can't take it then don't dish it out.
[He doesn't feel much concern himself. For two reasons mostly. The first being that he didn't really feel emotionally invested in Barty, he was a good companion but the Master was hardly a bleeding heart over him.
And secondly, he'd seen Barty just this afternoon and he'd been the same old, same old. Not really in dire need of help.]
It's rather unpleasant to see someone drag up such a painful experience, especially when it comes to family. But I think it would be hypocritical to rush to Barty's side and comfort him while he does exactly the same to Snape. And that other boy.. Neville, was it? I rather think his family matters were a more public embarrassment.
[With a slightly smirk, he tilts back in his chair and watches Will.]
By the way? You missed the Junior out. I believe there's a buried bone out there somewhere that boasts the official Barty Crouch name. I'm sure if he were capable of emotions or voicing opinions, he'd be rather annoyed.
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He talks, and Will doesn't look away, eyes on his face, holding eye contact whenever it makes his way to him. He's still as relaxed as possible in that chair, and there's no real move made other than the steady rise and fall of a breathing chest until he mentions his lack of Junior. Hypocritical to comfort him? There was a reason Will didn't shit all over the place like a fat lot of other people couldn't say. There was a reason he ended up speaking privately to him. It doesn't bother him, the possibly accusation in that. When the bone comes up, Will just about rolls his eyes, and he finally leans forward to move his own glass closer and start cutting into his food.
Talking about heavy topics over a first meal. This is familiar. A lot of it is familiar, and he enjoys the unhealthy comfort in that as much as he despises himself for welcoming it.]
He's endeared himself to me, I can't lie. [There's something in that that the Master won't pick up on unless he's been told, and it's a little bit of wordplay. Endeared? Eh. Endeered, however, yes, that has been done. If he asks Barty, Will wonders if he'd get what Will had really been saying with it. Maybe cough up information, who knows?] He spoke on what he thought was dangerous about Professor Snape, same as others have done on multiple occasions here. The bit about that Neville Longbottom boy and Draco was rather tasteless, yes. But to bring up his own family issues so blatantly and in depth isn't the way to go about things. If he'd been spewing on at length about Professor Snape's mother and father, it wouldn't be so unsavory. It's all awful, yes, but there's rising to the bait and then there's that. They aren't comparable. I'm not rushing to either side.
[A bite of fish, chewed slowly, eyes on the Master and nobody else, Will doesn't look like much of anything, truth be told. Just another guy who'll need to shave in a day and has some unruly curly hair. Ordinary.
He wants to look like that, because his appearance being misleading is something he's going to bank on if he ever goes home.]
He doesn't like the Junior part. Perhaps I should have just called him Barty, then. Or Bartemius, whichever.
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[It was an odd choice of words but he did find this whole thing a little odd. He had no idea Barty even had friend like this... but, to be fair, like he'd said before, he just wasn't invested outside their friendship. And that meant he never paid much attention to the little things. Some days he doesn't even realise if Barty's left the room or not. Unable to help himself, he laughs a little to himself at the nativity of Will.]
Please, everyone who does it claims they do it for others sake but they don't. I've rarely seen it done beyond a grudge-match. It's tainted with a level of personal biased, it makes it harder to take it at face value. It's easier to judge than have empathy, wouldn't you say? A man such as Snape hardly provokes our empathy. He's a little emotionally 'special'.
[Not that he's saying Snape isn't a dick and Barty is entirely right, by no means. It's more that in his experience, these warnings tend to be sparked by grudges, old score or panic. Rarely is it done for essential means. And this is mostly his way to tarnishing that practise ahead of time, should it ever happen to him.]
Besides, the meaning of the post was to warn people about danger in their neighbourhood, wasn't it? Yes, namely Snape but wouldn't you call a man who killed his father dangerous? Or tortured two people to insanity, never to be recovered ever again? Would you not want to be warned about such a man?
[He lets his chair land back on the floor, eyes on the dinner in front of him. He wasn't hungry but he's sample it, just to be a good dinner guest. And, he had to give his dues, it wasn't bad.] Call him whatever you want. Hell, get creative. Or flirty. Depends where this friendship if yours is leading.
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Warning, warned, warn this and that—Will's already talked about his take on it, though the conversation with the Master got rather off the point. Fortunately so, even if the idea of superpigs wasn't one that gave Will much to mull over later. It served its purpose well enough. He got what he wanted, Asgard proved itself full of people like the ones he knew so well. Mission accomplished.]
I'd say just about anything is easier than having empathy. Building a castle all by myself would be easier than having empathy. [That could swing two ways, as far as Will would read it. Either he has trouble with empathy in the way that he has too much, or he hasn't got an ounce of empathy in him at all. It's a little grumbled, and he does seem aggravated by the word itself, but he doesn't expound further before he takes a sip of water. When the dog lets out a tiny bark in its sleep, he barely seems to notice. Either he's extremely used to it or he's more absorbed in this little dinner date.] We've already been warned about Barty, not long after I got here. Anyone who wanted to do a little research could. It's not hard to find. No one made it a secret. He can't turn a man into a bone here, and that seems to be isolated to his father. He doesn't have those magical voodoo wizard means he had back home. Say what he did and his methods, fine. But not that. No one deserves that being dragged out, no one at all.
[This isn't hot air, nor is this Will saying as much because he'd hate it being done to himself (God, he hopes it's not done to him back on the stand whenever he gets home). There's this thing with Lecter, he's realized, and that's that whatever childhood traumas he suffered, whatever abuse he went through, nothing is a good "explanation" of what he did. He doesn't want to know what happened to him. He doesn't need to know. What happened happened, that's all he needs to know. Barty's nothing like Lecter, no, but what he's done stands on its own.
There's no reason to go that far, not with Lecter or anyone else. Perhaps that's a little bit of projecting. He hasn't decided yet.]
The entire thing was rude, but that pushed it over the edge. In my opinion.
[There's a tilt of his head as he leans back. When does this all end, he wonders, and does the Master ever let out a truthful opinion of his own? Layers and layers of lies.
He's so used to it, he's so comfortable with the way it makes him want to crawl out of his skin and crawl into the skin of the nearest person with problems. None of this is healthy.
But it's familiar.]
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Empathy is always a tricky thing, isn't it? [A slight pause.] Are you okay? Not to be rude, you just seem a little -- ah, tense?
[He wasn't concerned, he just wanted to see what sort of reaction he could get from pointing it out. For all he knew, it had nothing to do with him and this conversation. He just felt it was an interesting subject of conversation. More immersing than the one they were having anyway.]
People were briefly warned as a footnote about Barty in Voldemort's very own special outting post. I hardly think that's the same. [He waves his hand in dismissal.] I'm sure murder and torture was just a rare lapse of judgement, a coming of age gone wrong. Simply lashing out at his father. It isn't like he aligned himself with a would be fascist dictator with purity issues.
[He can't resist flashing a massive grin at Will.]
Kids, huh? So wild, so carefree.
[There's an internal sigh that he just can't help. He just didn't get humans, they all made so many excuses and talked away the real issues. He didn't grasp how any could come out of that post looking like anything more than a petty child but apparently they were fast to champion Barty over Snape... which wasn't hard, to be fair. Barty was charming and clever, he always came out on top if he could. Men like Snape were not only unpleasant to look at but they oozed this unpleasant and slimey attitude that would put any sane man off.]
Well, regardless of the what and the why, I'm sure Barty will be fine but your concern is touching. I'll pass it on, I'm sure he'll love to know people are concerned. [He finished off his water and gently slides his chair back, just for a little distance. His eyes are on the dog now, just making sure it isn't about to wake up and start bothering them. there was a very real chance he could kick it and he really doubted that would go down well. People were so weirdly precious over their mutts.]
So was that all? Because I hate to seem rude but I'm not exactly Barty's councillor nor his therapist so I'm really not that concerned for him. In future, I prefer texting on the subject of friends in need.
[Jeez, you live with someone and form a bond and suddenly everyone things you actually care for them! What a ridiculous and strange hypothesis.]
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I've been stabbed and shot in the shoulder for work. It still aggravates me.
[Then it's all Barty Barty Barty and yes, Will was using him as a "real reason" to get the Master here, but he hardly cares about him the way he cares about Alana. Really, he hardly cares about anyone the way he cares about Alana. He's not sure if the Master is really buying the bits of bullshit Will is shoveling out, but he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who isn't used to bullshit. If he lives with Barty...
Will leans back at last, interlacing his fingers over his stomach as he really, really looks at the Master, every bit of focus on him and only him. A circus could blow through the room, and it's pretty apparent that Will wouldn't give it a bit of attention.
This is getting back to first meals at home. A bit of rudeness to start it all off, and then what? He's as relaxed as he gets and gestures out with those joined hands, shrugging somewhat.]
I didn't really contact you about Barty. Exactly. [It's good to know they do have a bond past something like fond bickering on the network. That confirmation is really quite nice.] Glad to know he's got friends who would rather text about him, though. Very caring. [WILL GRAHAM HAS NO RIGHT TO TALK ABOUT PROPER FRIENDSHIP BUT HE JUST DID] Alana Bloom. I'd really rather certain people have nothing to do with her.
[His eyebrows lift a bit. Yeah, he means the Master. Barty. Several others.
Will himself, sometimes.]
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[He's just going to leave off that he was shot by the wife he drove insane during their weekly trips to the end of the universe while he was conquering Earth. Some people, they just weren't built to last, especially not mentally. It's hardly his fault! Though lesson learned, never date a human again. Well, nothing beyond the casual anyway.
He slides down his chair a little, head tilted back as he eyes the ceiling with a small frown, contemplating the matter of Barty. There was a lot he could perhaps do but when it boiled down to it? He was probably just going to text Barty later and insist he handles his 'boyfriends' worries personally. Sadly, the would-be cunning mastermind didn't pick the most emotional and helpful of friends. It's a good thing he has Will.
Finally, his head drops back down and he looks at Will with a curious expression, a small smile tugging at his lips.]
Alana? The nice lady I was speaking to on the network. Yes, I do believe she could be very helpful to me. I agree that certain people shouldn't be near her. [Including himself. But he's going to and nothing will stop him, especially not since it seems to hit Will's buttons.] It's nice, you know, to have someone offering that kind of assistance. If there's anything Asgard needs, it's mental health experts.
[He moves forward a little, arms settled on the table as he watches Will carefully.]
Are you concerned I'll hurt her?
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Granted, the last time someone had truly tried to hurt Alana, he'd shot him in the head right outside her house. Of course, he'd promptly passed out in the snow right after with a raging fever, woken up in a hospital connected to all the regular things needed to make sure he was recovering, and taken part in a gourmet chicken soup meal with his best friend in the entire world. He'd probably pissed him off a little calling it chicken soup, but there was no Lecter here to feed him if anything bad ever happened to Alana.
Would that be better or worse?
His first meal had resulted in him leaning away, staring at the man sitting across from him without hiding that he wasn't sure what to make of him. Defensive. This time, there's no backing away. He leans forward, arms settling on the table, the exact same distance as the Master. A meeting in the middle, both covering the same ground.
Will is neither truly advancing nor retreating. He can't afford it.]
You know what they say about the company you keep. [Is he going to be called out on his bullshit? He talks to Barty, visits with him, shouldn't he stay away from this Alana Bloom, too?] Are you saying I shouldn't be concerned about you doing anything unsavory to her should you be given the chance to get close enough? Get in a room alone with her?
[There's something a little off in the way he says that last part, but he's not about to tell the story of how she avoided being alone in a room with him for ages when he wasn't considered a murderer, all the while being alone with everyone else. Even Lecter.]
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While Alana had originally been just a fickle passing amusement, she was now so much more. All thanks to Will showing him the light.]
You shouldn't be concerned, I'm a gentlemen first and foremost. And besides, like I'd ever hurt anyone. I'm trying to get help, don't you realise? And it's counter-productive to start off my redemption through hurting someone who could help me. [He lets out a slightly dramatic sigh and lets his head drop back, all very theatrical.] No one has any trust in me, it's so harsh. Can't a man change?
[He tuts and gives Will smug little smile.]
I mean sure, everyone has the occasional slip during these periods but I'll endeavour to be on my best behaviour. [Spoiler alert: he won't.] She seems nice. Pleasant. I like when people are like that, so caring and kind.
[Lucy had been kind and caring, he'd soon destroyed that in her. And he bet he could destroy it in all and any human set before him. The Doctor always insisted they were good people but the Master knew how to bring out the worst in everyone. Or, failing that, how to ruin the good. He was certain he could pull that off with anyone, even in Asgard.]
Besides, Will, no offence but this is my private personal business. I think you should stay out of it.
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At least there's no ears when he looks from the Master between them, blinking to get it all back together, to come back to the present. His name is Will Graham, it's not too late in the day, and he's in Asgard. Asgard.
It takes him a second to reply, having to play back what he'd just heard away from all the other noise that threatened to drown it out. Finally, once he feels like he's not suffocating and can talk without worrying that opening his mouth will result in something awful popping out, he can say one thing for himself: he's keeping his calm. There's no panicking, there's no throwing out insults. There's no stag creature staring at him from the doorway. There's just, now that he focuses, Will Graham and one man he does not at all trust talking about Alana Bloom.]
She's not the only one here who could help you. [Are there other psychiatrists? He doesn't know. He never had the patience to be one, never wanted to go through with anything that would earn him the coveted title of doctor. Maybe he should have. If he knew he'd end up in the home of gods and giants, it might have come in handy.] She's not the only one who knows the ins and outs of the human mind.
[Human. That's the key word Will has been holding onto, but people here come from all over and still carry the same traits and thought processes as the ones back home. It's absolutely infuriating.]
If you'd intended for it to be truly private and personal, you wouldn't have shown yourself like you did. She left herself up for private contact. But you didn't. You made it visible to the entirety of Asgard.
[He can just hear it now, in Lecter's voice, in Alana's voice, in Crawford's, in just about everyone he knows. He's damaged and broken and shouldn't be profiling the insane, or even thinking about it. He needs to recover and get better before he so much as looks at gory photographs. He should sit in his cell and wait for nature to take its course. He shouldn't seek comfort in doing what it is people are going to scramble to say drove him to the breaking point.
And yet here he sits.]
As you said, everyone slips. They just usually don't purposefully start off the entire process by slipping.
[And isn't that what Will is doing right now with the Master, slipping? Maybe a little less purposefully, but it's still slipping. Bunch of psychopaths helping each other out, he'd heard before.
That only works when anyone really wants help. He doubts that's the case here.]
Sorry for the delay >>;;
Despite how often they out did him.
He waits, patiently, for Will to process everything. He seems to of realised his own tactical error and fair play to that, not many men could do that. The Master was a surprisingly patient man. After all, here he was, stalling for time. That was all he really seemed to do in Asgard. He was waiting for a better tactical advantage.]
She isn't? Oh but she seems so perfect for me, so caring. [He smirks playfully and leans forward, quirking an eyebrow up in curiosity.] Unless, of course, you can name a doctor here at Asgard that specialises in the mind and is capable of being as wise and kind as she is?
[He's not that invested in Alana, he finds her an amusement at best. But championing her in this particular conversation was becoming rather fun. He was personally interested what Will intended to do to distract him from her.
After all, he could always do more. And he could always do so much worse.]
I always try my best to avoid slipping. If it should happen, it should happen. But I never purposefully move to slip. Do you, Will? [He pauses, eyes still locked onto him.] Do you have any reason to slip? A man like you, friends like yours... I can't think why you'd ever slip.
[It's ... It's hard to say that with a straight face. He deservers a medal.]