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who: Will Graham & Open prompts
what: Taget Practice | Class on Monsters | Floor 1 in the dead of night.
when: The month of September
where: Various locations
warnings: Will's mental instability?

A - Target Practice

[ At some safe target range within the city walls ~~perhaps near the Perimeter Guard barracks~~ Will was attempting to practice on the pointers he'd gotten from Beverly, and more recently James. He was in his Weaver stance, the Sig Sauer settled in his two handed grip as he muttered softly to himself. ]

Relax the elbow to absorb the recoil ...

[ And ... bam bam bam. He fired off three shots. The first struck the target, center mass but the other two spread wide; evidence that he hadn't been able to absorb and adjust for the recoil.

Exhaling a frustrated breath, Will dropped his head and tried to ignore the way his overly long curls fell into his face. He may have muttered a curse before lowering the Sig Sauer and setting the safety. Staring at the target for a long minute, he set down the handgun and reached for a shot gun that he'd picked up somewhere.

Expertly racking the cartridges, he lifted it to his shoulder and unloaded two shots back to back into the targets, obliterating the cardboard into confetti. Will smiled -in a vaguely unsettling manner- and lowered the weapon, cracking it open to secure it. ]

There we go. I'll just walk around with this shoved in my waistband. [ The bite of sarcasm was high. ]

B - Perimeter Guard Barracks: Will's Classroom

[ As he'd discussed back in the beginning, Will had finally put together enough material to start holding a class on monsters.

He had some details on the monsters known to the immediate area and gave tutorials on what was known about their habits, habitats and what was effective against them in order to keep one from becoming lunch. But he also spoke to what it meant to be a monster.

Yes it was a bit of psychology sneaking in. He couldn't help it. Too many years teaching about the psychologically challenging monsters he hunted back home.

Despite his general aversion to anything resembling socialization, he wasn't a bad lecturer. Will made sure to give his voice lifts and drops, rather than simply droning on and on. He used visual aids and most importantly, he asked questions. They weren't always intended to be answered in the lecture, but rather to help his listeners start thinking through their own scenarios.

Today's lecture was about understanding monsters vs simply killing on sight. ]

I'd like you all to take a moment and try to put yourself in their perspective. Look inside yourself, think about who you are and what sort of monster you would be. How do you imagine you'd be perceived from the outside? How do you feel your actions, for survival, would be perceived by those who didn't understand your design?

C - Floor 1 Communal Housing

[ Will was close to being in a position to move out, but he hadn't yet bothered to pursue it with any serious intent. He was barely around as it was and so far the other people on his floor seemed as often absent as around so there was no rush.

Of course it helped that he didn't spend a lot of time sleeping. This night (or early morning, however you wanted to mark time) was no different.

Nightmares had woken Will up. They were old friends in so many ways, but still disturbing and he was fairly certain if anyone else was on the floor and trying to sleep, they didn't need him screaming down the walls; again. So he'd gone ahead and gotten up, taken a shower and gotten into dry clothes, before taking himself out to the common area to make some coffee.

Coffee in hand, he walked over to one of the walls. It was a spot that was out of the way and sheltered by some chairs. Sitting down, cross-legged, Will sipped his coffee and then reached into his pocket for the pencil he had stashed there. Taking a small knife out of his other pocket he carved down the point on the pencil until satisfied and then set the knife down on the floor next to the coffee mug.

Leaning forward, he began to sketch lightly on the bland, industrial off-ivory colored wall.

This was not the first time he'd done this, he had an eraser at the ready and would scrub out his marks just after sunrise, before he set off to start his day. But now, in these silent hours of true dark, he could be caught sketching nightmareish images in loving detail. ]

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[ Will twitched when Ronan spoke, the soft-footed approach having definitely caught him unawares. Didn't hurt that mentally speaking he'd been far away on a bit of an emotional walk about.

He didn't snap, like some people who were caught doing something personal might have done, didn't go on the defensive as if he were doing anything wrong. Instead, he paused in his sketching, and glanced over his shoulder confirming the face with the familiar voice. ]

Only if I keep us all from getting our security deposit back, but I suspect the fire from a few weeks ago probably took care of that.

Yeah, we're all fucked there.

[Ronan remains against the wall. He moves one foot to press against it, ready to push off at a moment's notice.]

Gotta admit, I didn't peg you as the crazy artist type.

[In spite of the words, his tone carries no judgment. As usual, he's just smugly rude.]

Artist might be a bit of a stretch. [ Will remarked wryly, only too well aware that he was nowhere near Hannibal's skill in that department.

But he leans back, exposing what he's working on so Ronan can see it more clearly if he wishes. It's never going to hang in any art museum but it wouldn't shame a police sketch artist.

However it is incredible grotesque. A totem pole made out of human corpses in varying stages of decay. From fully skeletal at the bottom to, uhm more fresh at the top.]

I should probably refute the 'crazy' part but uhm ... [ he just motions to what he's sketching. ] Occupational hazard.

[To think, people are (were?) intimidated by the claws, thorns, and vines emerging from screaming faces on Ronan's back. Now this art unsettles even Ronan. It takes a moment to realize why exactly. He knows better than to judge a mind for its subconscious. No, he suspects the reason is the kind of knowledge required to represent the stages of death.

After their last real encounter, this does not comfort him.]

Remind me. What is it you do? You know, other than harrass people and-- that.

[He gestures toward the wall.]

[ To be fair, tattoos could be incredibly unsettling. The way they could move atop the flex and release of muscles, making the art come alive.

At least Will's sketching was mostly 2-D.

He glanced over at Ronan, lips quirking in a wry half smile. ]

It wouldn't be reminding you, if I never told you in the first place. [ He wouldn't deny that he harassed people, just going to let that charge slide. Instead he sat back on one hip and put his full focus on the young man in the shadows. ]

I teach young FBI agents how to hunt serial killers and then the BAU has a particularly creative individual, I go out into the field as a special investigator to help hunt them.

[ He looked down, but pointed towards the totem pole with his pencil. ]

This was the work of a man who had killed for over fifteen years. He was at the end of his life, so he dug up all his victims and built that out of them, as a legacy. Ironic part was, the man he killed to put at the top, he thought he was killing the son of the man who stole the woman he loved. Turned out he killed his own biological son.

[Ronan knows death. He's seen it many times, usually peaceful for animals and gruesome for-- well, his family. If he tries, Ronan can imagine the orchestrator of his father's death doing this, if he were alive, but only if promised enough artifacts. It sounds like the killer Will spoke of did it just for kicks.

In some ways, it's easier to wrap his head around real demons. Their purpose is to destroy. Humans find their own purpose and this is what some of them do.

All those thoughts flit through his mind as he stares. Maybe Will's lying through his teeth to scare him. After all, the best stories are lies.]

You saw that? For real? That's fucked. Are you telling me that's all in a day's work?

Does it sound like something a person would be given to lying about?

[ Seriously, if he was going to make shit up it would be along the lines of a multi-millionaire CEO or some tech genius.

Not a lowly government paid employee who is asked to stare at the most depraved expressions of humanity's broken psyche. ]

But no. Some days I'm teaching students how to interpret [ Will waved the pencil again ] crime scenes like that.

I wouldn't be surprised. Ever seen a horror movie?

[Ronan steps closer. Now that the initial shock is gone, he regards it with interest. He'll never understand it. Maybe that's why it's intriguing.]

Well shit, now I get why you can't sleep. A sick man's dreams.

[The translation kicks in, but the words Ronan says are latin. Aegri somnia.]

Shrinks say crap like this helps. I always thought they were full of shit. What do you think?

[ Sorry Ronan but he starts to laugh at the question. It's soft and wry and he looks down in a way that suggests he not laughing at Ronan.

An assumption he seeks to support with his next words. ]

I think, actually I know, that my psychiatrist of record would have advised I'd be better off not drawing this but rather doing it myself. Though he'd have advised I make something of my own design and not just copy someone else's work.

[ Will paused and looked at the horror on the wall for a moment, before he moved to lean his shoulders back against the adjoining wall. ]

The psychiatrist the F.B.I. set me up with, in an attempt to keep me from succumbing to the darkness of serial killers, turned out to be the most wanted serial killer on the F.B.I.'s list.

The irony was ... rather epic in my opinion.

[Ronan nearly laughs at the absurdity of that situation. He turns to look at Will.]

Christ, that's a coincidence.

[It's clear in his dry voice that Ronan's not a believer of coincidences. They too often prove to be intentional.]

Leave it to the government to fuck up that badly, right? What happened? Did he fuck you over or did you send his sadistic ass to prison?

[ Despite the horror of living it, Will would be able to see the absurd humor in it all. Perhaps further evidence of just how cracked in the head he was these days.

His lips twitched into a wry little smile. ]

We were something of a zero sum game, if you will. I figured out who he was but couldn't convince any of my peers before he set me up and got me sent to the hospital for the criminally insane. I tried to send someone to kill him, he sent someone to try to kill me, then things got really weird.

[ Leaning back against the wall, Will fluttered the pencil in between his fingers. ]

I sent him to the same hospital for the criminally insane, then helped break him out so we could stop another serial killer together. Last thing I remember I wrapped my arms around him and threw both of us off a cliff. Over a hundred foot plunge to the ocean below.

Can't tell you how that ended up, I was pulled here during the plummet.

[Ronan is quiet. That's a lot to processs for the middle of the night, when he just wants a drink. Next time, maybe he'll think before asking personal questions.

...Nah.]

Not where you expected your one way ticket to take you, huh? Damn. Guess I am stuck with you as a roommate.

[He puts some distance between them again, edging closer to the kichen area.]

Well, you fucked up on the delivery, but I gotta appreciate your dedication to serving justice.

At least until I decide if I want to go secure myself a small house at the edge of town. [ It was something Will kept thinking about but he was reluctant to fully pursue.

Not because he had suddenly discovered a desire to be sociable. But because he realized what a danger he could be to himself without at least a pack of dogs to keep him from sleepwalking out into the mouth of a monster.

He watched Ronan edge towards the kitchen and his lips twitched. He didn't blame the guy. He'd give himself a wide berth as well. ]

As altruistic as you make that sound, it would be dishonest of me to claim that was all that went through my head at the moment.

But ... thank you, all the same.

You admitted to hiring a hitman. I'm not stupid enough to think your ass is squeaky clean. I gave you an out, take it next time.

[As someone who has not hired but called in a favor from a hitman to do something rather unpleasant, he's not sure if he has room to judge. He still finds it distasteful.

Ronan comes to rest against the wall again. As before, he presses his foot against it and folds his arms.]

Funny. I want a small house at the edge of town too. Bitch to save up for, isn't it? The price we pay for wanting to stay up late creating nightmares in peace.

I didn't exactly hire him. [ But those were details they didn't need to get into. He was going to take Ronan up on the offer of an out and just move the conversation along.

The man's latter comment was more interesting anyway. ]

It is proving to be an expense I wasn't expected. Even with having secured and good job. How long have you been trying to save up?

[ He knew Ronan had been here longer than he had, knew that from the whole mission situation. But how long was still a question. ]

[Ronan shrugs at Will insistence. He won't argue. He doesn't know the specifics. He still stands by his main point.]

Four, five months? Since Adam got here.

[Ronan doesn't clarify who Adam is, but even if Will doesn't know it's safe to assume he means his boyfriend. As much as they dislike PDAs, there's only so much restraint two youths can show.]

I'd say we'd kill for some privacy but eh...

[He points at Will's art.]

Don't want to give you the wrong idea.

[ Will glanced at Ronan for a moment, not quite looking into his eyes, before he gave his head a shake. ]

If you were going to kill, it wouldn't be for something as trivial as privacy.

[ His eyes were on his knees as he plucked at a fold in his sleep slacks. ]

Have you considered taking on a couple other roommates, as opposed to an entire floor of them? Or is this an all or nothing situation?

[Ronan scratches the side of his head.]

Yeah, that's true.

[He hasn't killed but only because he'd been stopped.]

We're all or nothing kind of guys. I could mention it to him.

[He isn't eager to reveal the other reason for his need for privacy. Will already came close enough to learning about his dream magic. Learning that your roommate can accidentally bring back monsters from his sleep does not help with bouts of insomnia.]

I hope you're not offering.

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