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ᴡɪʟʟ ɢʀᴀʜᴀᴍ; ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ p̶r̶o̶f̶i̶l̶e̶r̶ (
2017-02-28 02:14 am (UTC)
It's a polite brand of caution. It's a self-protecting brand of unease.
Other people spill into him and the paints don't unmix so easily. Will has spent unwatched hours following paths in his mind that are at once foreign and familiar to him, that he knows he didn't carve but that he can find the scars of on his own hands.
So yeah. He's going to be careful about eye contact right before a strip search on a recently-armed gang member.
But the rest of Crash's face is just as distracting. When he stands up, Will leans back into his own stance - shoulders lowering, chin tilting up, weight shifting onto the balls of his feet.
He isn't approached like a lumbering threat, though. There's no yelling-at-Toad growl to the voice. This is a man changing gears, and Will finds eye contact in a flash, because for a split second he thinks he's hearing someone
But he's more likely just hearing someone act. And as he looks at distracting, bloodshot eyes that are remarkably focused and clear, none of the drug-haze that had clouded across everyone in the backseat on the ride over, Will sees either a very good actor, a very delusional man, or...
Surprise hits like lightning to a still-green tree, splintering through and across. Will blinks at Crash, watches the complete change of attitude, and thinks of Broussard in the next room hustling Toad through what Crash is currently delaying.
The corners of Will's mouth twitch up, air huffing out in amused surprise, forehead pinching down. "Does your file include your pathological need to have the last, witty word?" Will doesn't take his gloves off, but he doesn't issue the order to strip a second time. Instead, he reaches for his back pocket and takes out his cellphone.
"Okay. Well. Since we
realize how ridiculous all of that sounds." Will watches Crash, this time with the sharp edge of someone who's good at what he can do and right now doesn't see any reason to hide it. To call what just came out of Crash's mouth far-fetched doesn't do it justice, but Will is more willing than most to go ahead and test out the limits of what people are capable of carrying within themselves.
He's already googling for Houston PD's number. Will looks back up only once he's also bringing the ringing phone up to his ear, gaze flat. His eyebrows raise slightly, a parent challenging a child in an ill-advised game of chicken.
"I'm going to need that name and badge number now."
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