[ week three ➝ chane ]

[sweats]

[ So, he's not quite sure what made him lie for her other than the fact that he likes her and well, he wanted to. It's an odd sensation -- just wanting to throw something out there, see where it lands, see what happens and with the loss of Percy's friendship (not that it's really lost but Will knows that the boy's never gonna be the same again) -- he supposes he was casting out lines elsewhere.

In the end, he lied and made her alibi seem solid and she went along with it. He thought she would, his senses told him she would but it was still weirdly thrilling when she did. He had to keep from smiling when she nodded.

Which means the trial's over and he's going to seek out Chane, half a sandwich in hand. It's something Hannibal made him earlier and what better token of friendship? Or. Something. Jesus, he's not really good at this.

He'll find her wherever she happens to be and clears his throat, offering up the sandwich half. ]

Hungry?

Comments

[tightly]

[ When Will finds her, she's sitting in the lounge. It would be easy to mistake her as unbothered by all this, if one didn't look closely.

Chane hadn't quite made a point to eat much this weekend, honestly. Maybe the sight of Nui's flesh sloughing off her bones had done her appetite in for longer than she had anticipated. Maybe she had just forgotten. So, the sandwich is regarded as nothing less than a gift, and ... well, she's not as suspicious of those as she used to be.

It's accepted, taken with both hands, punctuated with a nod and some semblance of gratitude in her thoughts. It's so good he can pick stuff like that up.

There's curiosity there, too. This is the man who lied for her, after all.

It rings out between them. That single, solitary why. ]

[sweats]

[ Will sighs after she takes the sandwich and finds himself sitting at the other end of the couch, close enough for privacy but not for discomfort. He runs a hand through his hair and wonder what to say before shrugging -- there's not really another way he can go with this. ]

... I wanted to see what would happen.

[ He hears Hannibal's voice in his head, the words echoing a dull hurt but there isn't much Will can do about it, can he? He's made his choices and he lives with them. Now, he finds himself on the other end, watching something spiral into such a careful, cautious descent and he couldn't let it end there. He couldn't let Chane just fizzle out so quickly because of one mistake.

Will noticed, like sharp blaring signals to him, the slight hesitation from Chane during the trial. He didn't expect her to be the culprit and he's not sure who it was she killed between Nui and Annabeth. But he liked her quiet sincerity so far and he couldn't help himself. ]

Should I not have said anything?

[tightly]

[ "Should I not have said anything?" Definitely not. If he hadn't intervened, her alibi would have fallen apart under the scrutiny others were imposing on it. Knowing that, she's grateful.

It does open up other questions, though. Is this man a plant? What does he know? If Chane had been a little less exhausted, she might have pursued those questions with more -- or any, really -- vehemence.

She sets the sandwich down on her lap and takes a moment to write something down, ]

Thank you.

[sweats]

[ It's a little invasive but Will is still able to detect the hint of suspicion from Chane even after his response. He's not surprised but he hesitates from answering, not sure if she wants to hear it.

Her thanks is appreciated though and he gives a nod, a small smile on his face. He is reminded, suddenly, of Chiyoh. Chiyoh and her graceful quiet, her strong dignity that held such consideration for the grey in their shared morality. ]

You're welcome.

[ He's silent for a moment, but the silence is not oppressive or impatient. He's considering something, with a slow thoughtfulness that he thinks this decision deserves. He'll finally speak after a moment, voice careful and quiet. ]

... I usually know. I'm a participant like everyone else, but there's something about how my mind works that I always know. If I were to say something, it wouldn't help anyone in the long run. [ . . . ] I also consider you a friend.

[ So, he lied. He didn't keep quiet like he always does. Instead, he actively lied to save Chane because he liked her and did not want her to die. It was selfish, but he doesn't care. ]

[tightly]

[ Chane's brow knits and then that slight knit creases deeper into a truly impressive furrow as she listens. For whatever reason, Will does not see it as putting himself in danger to have lied for her so readily... but then, it's not as if these trials resemble actual law in any way. It's just a cheap facsimile for the entertainment of some unseen benefactors. And he made his choice. She went along with it. Chane can hardly balk now after reaping the benefits of his duplicity.

Besides, she's still alive. There had been moments, several... where she had been skeptical about her ability to get through the trial. Everything had fallen apart so quickly.

There's that other thing, too. Friend.

Well, then.

... More writing, although it's nice not to need to. ]

If you wish, I will answer your questions. I know a little more about how the game functions now. It is only fair.

[ She's unwilling to share that with Claire, but she'll totally share it with Will. Yeah. ]

[sweats]

[ When Chane shares her sentence with him, Will looks surprised. It only takes a moment for him to realize why she would offer, why she thought he would care. He gives a shake of his head and can't help the slight wryness of his grin in response. ]

No. I don't want to know. I'm ... not interested.

[ Which is probably a weird thing to say, makes him look even more suspicious but he's not guilty of anything. He knows what he knows, has figured out what he has, he has no inclination to know more than that. All he cares about, truly, is what Hannibal will do and how interesting it may be. They're living a half-life after all and Will was ready to die to be with Hannibal. He hasn't yet achieved that goal. ]

Are you going to tell Felix?

[tightly]

[ He says no. She leaves it at that. His reason may be flimsy, even incomprehensible, but it's his own. She doesn't have the wherewithal to question it.

Will's question does catch her, though.

Claire...

Thinking on it, the way she's sitting chances, her position reconfiguring as she struggles to answer. No, she isn't -- but that hardly feels like the right answer for a wife with any sense of loyalty.

Eventually, she shakes her head. No. ]

[sweats]

[ The conflict isn't hard to pick up and Will watches for a moment, considering what to say. He thinks -- well, he has a very strong feeling that if he says the right thing here, Chane will take his word as it is, and hopefully trust him. He has no intention to betray her but he knows that that's a little hard to swallow. ]

Probably safer for him if you don't. I wouldn't, if I was in your position, tell Hannibal either. There's a lot of people here who have come to rely on him, it's better the less he knows.

[ Which is hilarious, considering, but that isn't something he can share with Chane. Instead, he talks and his voice is soft and quiet and reassuring. He tries to project a stability that he thinks Chane might need right now. ]

Are you going to be okay?

[tightly]

[ She hasn't quite put the dots together of Will being an empath so, when he says exactly what she needs to hear, Chane's responsive relaxation is slight and visible. Claire hardly holds the same level of respect in town as Hannibal, but he cultivates that sort of reputation on purpose.

Besides, if she had involved him, things would have been. Messy.

That other question, though, continues to catch her off guard. For a moment, Chane feels too much like the woman she was years ago, coming off an entirely different train and stepping into an entirely foreign life. (Did it happen again?) ]

Yes.

[ One death, one reward. Whatever happens next... ]

[sweats]

[ At the answer, Will smiles and gives a nod. After a moment, he'll extend his hand to Chane to give her a reassuring squeeze if she so wishes. He won't be offended if she declines, but it felt right enough to offer. If she does take his hand, he'll hold it steadily and comforting.

His voice continues in that soft, low tone and Will finds himself genuinely feeling the urge to reassure, even without his instinctive response to her emotions. He wants to speak carefully, to help soothe. He likes Chane enough to feel that. It's a pretty alarming sensation for a moment, but he follows it regardless. ]

Okay.

[ Silence falls and a few minutes pass until Will speaks again. ]

Chane... if you need anything, I want you to ask Hannibal and I. You won't endanger us if you do and you won't have to worry about Felix in the process. After what happened, there's going to be a lot of people looking for anyone involved. We can protect you.

[tightly]

[ It takes a moment - a fair few, actually - but Chane does extend her hand to grasp for his. Inside the squeeze, he'll find she feels a bit limp, although that's not to say her grip is weak. It's simply inexercised. She allows him to bear that weight without reciprocating, her expression straddling an awkward line between cold and shy.

Despite all of that? It is soothing, reassuring, easing -- all the things Will is seeking to be in this moment comes across in that gesture. She finds herself, to a point, not quite wanting him to let go.

As he speaks further, Chane blinks up at him. Rational, biting suspicion completes with the foolhardy sense of gratitude and the desire to accept that offer. Because it's her, she can't leave it unexamined. It may make her feel guilty; even as she's allowing this man to hold her hand, she's turning his offer over in her mind, casting about for a loophole, a hook, an expectation of payment. For a little while, Will may get the sense that he pushed too far, overloading an already conflicted woman with confusing kindness...

Eventually, that settles. Her thoughts smooth out. Deciding, for better or otherwise, that since they're spending all their weekends for the foreseeable future lying, mistrusting, probing, searching, dying --

Well, she has to trust someone (someone else, there's still Claire) through-out the week.

A nod. Yes. ]