( Will has a stare that cuts like a scalpel, from time to time — 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 — 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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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 — 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. ]