[ It's not just general politeness that means Will hadn't asked about the cane immediately. It's the fact that Will has to actively guard what he can of others', for his own sake as well as theirs. It's too easy to get stained with details he hadn't tried to access - on the rare occasion he would have to ask for information, Will weighs that option carefully.
Asking hadn't seemed necessary until the fact that they might literally need to run from demons had become abundantly clear. V had responded with characteristic vagueness, a diplomatic non-answer suited for politics - or poetry - and he's demonstrated surprising strength since then.
Just with pockets of...this. An odd exhaustion, a shakiness that Will can't help but notice. The quieter they are about it, the louder the echoes sound. Will glances over, just barely, when V sounds like he's about to share something. The silence earns him another, more noticeable glance.
Will's gaze goes from V's face - suddenly looking just a bit paler, just a little more oddly flushed at the very edges of his cheekbones, almost too shiny at his forehead even in the low light - to his hand (tremors) - down further, to bare feet. Will doesn't see people undressed often, and in this context it feels sexual not at all but intimate enormously. This is sharing a living space, an intrusion that can't be forgotten as easily as one-night stands.
Will clears his throat and starts cranking open both cans. Bachelor's instinct of preparing everything himself means he doesn't ask for help, or move aside to let V so much as attempt to prepare his own bowl or unpack the rest of the bag. ] Good.
It should be ready in... [ let the chef of the evening read the back of this can's label, first ] two minutes. Hereβ [ Will's popped the first mug of soup into the microwave and hit one of the automatic buttons. Now, he fishes out the bag of rolls and, freeing one from the bag, places it on a napkin and hands it to V. ]
I know you wanted bread for dessert, so hopefully this isn't overkill.
[ There's an odd shyness that wells, as he passes the food over. Will's eye contact is abruptly interrupted by him busying himself with preparing his own mug to go into the microwave next. ]
( Will has a stare that cuts like a scalpel, from time to time β precise, sharp, deep, but...painless. being peeled open doesn't always mean being ripped apart. when Will looks him over, it's passively investigative: curious, concerned, and taking stock. v can't hide, out in the open as he is, standing beside Will. he's subject to his incredibly intuitive judgment, at all times.
but there is something incredibly forgivable and appreciable in the man: that he will dissect a person, and still choose to press on, without argument. 'Good.' and that's it.
because Will knows what he can and cannot do. he knows he can warm a bowl of soup. he knows he can't do more than that, right now, thus he works with what he has, now. the similarities in tactic is striking.
therefore, admiring, if not a little relieving. v's gaze ticks down and watches what Will busies his hands with, the smallest of smiles clinging to v's lips. it's respect, isn't it? that's what shines here, in this dark pool, down at the very bottom of it.
that shyness isn't hidden either, not when passing over a modest bread roll on a napkin. v's smile deepens as he lifts his free hand up to take it, amused well by the strangeness of the interaction. v might not have thought anything of it odd if WIll weren't suddenly more jagged, his gaze almost (almost) nervous. )
The only sort of overkill I know by personal reference involves fiends and goblins. ( v lifts the round of bronze-skinned bread for emphasis. ) Not exactly the same realm as monsters. I imagine...it will be just fine.
( in fact, as v turns to step over to the foot of the bed, the end most-directly facing Will, he thinks if the bread lasts through warming both of their dinners, v will be surprised. by time he's sitting, he's already taken an unabashed bite for himself.
a thought has captured him, though, as he watches Will's back, the shifting of his shirt as he moves, filling soup mugs with soup and water from a bottle. he waits until he's swallowed down his mouthful before carefully offering: ) ...If I lured you into the tangled wood of nostalgia earlier β I apologize.
[ There's a seriousness to V that's never quite stagnant, only still. Will watches him sidelong, head turning just enough to be certain he's going to make it to rest back on the bed before Will goes back to...
To food preparation. Simple to the point of feeling it warrants an apology, or would if they hadn't been eating out of foil and crinkling bags the past week. This is warmer than trail mix and smells like...
Will opens the microwave on a dubious scent-memory just as V offers up an apology. ]
Nostalgia suggests it was worth missing. [ Braced bitterness in his tone. He stirs the soup, brings the spoon out to press the edge of a bent knuckle against it to check the temperature - still chilly. Back in the microwave. ] And...if it was worth missing, you wouldn't need to apologize.
Unless you weren't anticipating the conversation to get-- personal. [ Which is unlikely, but not impossible. V is smart, but not always the best at predicting people. He lacks the depth of intuition that Will has, or even the baseline trust that Will's seen in a few observant others. It's possible that V didn't think Will would trip up in his own memories at a mild prompting...they don't know each other that well yet, after all. V wouldn't know to anticipate how bad Will really is at compartmentalizing.
Will's been stirring the waiting mug of cold soup too long. He has to force himself to put the spoon back down, open the microwave a second time.
...Warm enough, now. ] Here.
[ It doesn't even occur to him to hold it out and expect V to come back over. Will brings the mug right back over to V, the dragging tendrils of renewed tension not lost but not as important as handing over dinner. ]
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no subject
Asking hadn't seemed necessary until the fact that they might literally need to run from demons had become abundantly clear. V had responded with characteristic vagueness, a diplomatic non-answer suited for politics - or poetry - and he's demonstrated surprising strength since then.
Just with pockets of...this. An odd exhaustion, a shakiness that Will can't help but notice. The quieter they are about it, the louder the echoes sound. Will glances over, just barely, when V sounds like he's about to share something. The silence earns him another, more noticeable glance.
Will's gaze goes from V's face - suddenly looking just a bit paler, just a little more oddly flushed at the very edges of his cheekbones, almost too shiny at his forehead even in the low light - to his hand (tremors) - down further, to bare feet. Will doesn't see people undressed often, and in this context it feels sexual not at all but intimate enormously. This is sharing a living space, an intrusion that can't be forgotten as easily as one-night stands.
Will clears his throat and starts cranking open both cans. Bachelor's instinct of preparing everything himself means he doesn't ask for help, or move aside to let V so much as attempt to prepare his own bowl or unpack the rest of the bag. ] Good.
It should be ready in... [ let the chef of the evening read the back of this can's label, first ] two minutes. Hereβ [ Will's popped the first mug of soup into the microwave and hit one of the automatic buttons. Now, he fishes out the bag of rolls and, freeing one from the bag, places it on a napkin and hands it to V. ]
I know you wanted bread for dessert, so hopefully this isn't overkill.
[ There's an odd shyness that wells, as he passes the food over. Will's eye contact is abruptly interrupted by him busying himself with preparing his own mug to go into the microwave next. ]
no subject
but there is something incredibly forgivable and appreciable in the man: that he will dissect a person, and still choose to press on, without argument. 'Good.' and that's it.
because Will knows what he can and cannot do. he knows he can warm a bowl of soup. he knows he can't do more than that, right now, thus he works with what he has, now. the similarities in tactic is striking.
therefore, admiring, if not a little relieving. v's gaze ticks down and watches what Will busies his hands with, the smallest of smiles clinging to v's lips. it's respect, isn't it? that's what shines here, in this dark pool, down at the very bottom of it.
that shyness isn't hidden either, not when passing over a modest bread roll on a napkin. v's smile deepens as he lifts his free hand up to take it, amused well by the strangeness of the interaction. v might not have thought anything of it odd if WIll weren't suddenly more jagged, his gaze almost (almost) nervous. )
The only sort of overkill I know by personal reference involves fiends and goblins. ( v lifts the round of bronze-skinned bread for emphasis. ) Not exactly the same realm as monsters. I imagine...it will be just fine.
( in fact, as v turns to step over to the foot of the bed, the end most-directly facing Will, he thinks if the bread lasts through warming both of their dinners, v will be surprised. by time he's sitting, he's already taken an unabashed bite for himself.
a thought has captured him, though, as he watches Will's back, the shifting of his shirt as he moves, filling soup mugs with soup and water from a bottle. he waits until he's swallowed down his mouthful before carefully offering: ) ...If I lured you into the tangled wood of nostalgia earlier β I apologize.
no subject
To food preparation. Simple to the point of feeling it warrants an apology, or would if they hadn't been eating out of foil and crinkling bags the past week. This is warmer than trail mix and smells like...
Will opens the microwave on a dubious scent-memory just as V offers up an apology. ]
Nostalgia suggests it was worth missing. [ Braced bitterness in his tone. He stirs the soup, brings the spoon out to press the edge of a bent knuckle against it to check the temperature - still chilly. Back in the microwave. ] And...if it was worth missing, you wouldn't need to apologize.
Unless you weren't anticipating the conversation to get-- personal. [ Which is unlikely, but not impossible. V is smart, but not always the best at predicting people. He lacks the depth of intuition that Will has, or even the baseline trust that Will's seen in a few observant others. It's possible that V didn't think Will would trip up in his own memories at a mild prompting...they don't know each other that well yet, after all. V wouldn't know to anticipate how bad Will really is at compartmentalizing.
Will's been stirring the waiting mug of cold soup too long. He has to force himself to put the spoon back down, open the microwave a second time.
...Warm enough, now. ] Here.
[ It doesn't even occur to him to hold it out and expect V to come back over. Will brings the mug right back over to V, the dragging tendrils of renewed tension not lost but not as important as handing over dinner. ]