riverviewlogs | (no subject)

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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He follows Will peaceably enough as he heads to put the gun away, eyebrows hitching in surprise.]

Seven dogs? How the hell do you look after seven dogs?

I mentioned that I don't do sociable, right? Outside my teaching schedule and when I went out in the field on a case, I had nothing but time on my hands.

[ Will responded, as if that should be the answer in and of itself. Look, he was a crazy lonely cat lady; only male, with dogs and not lonely. Definitely crazy. ]

But if you must know, it was because I had them very well trained.

[Bucky is an antisocial crazy man with a lot of time on his hands, but even he doesn't think seven dogs is a good plan.]

How big are we talking?

[Because seven tiny dogs and seven large dogs are somehow a bit different in his head.]

Various sizes. [ He answered, hands in his pockets and eyes cast downwards as they walked. ] They were all mutts and strays.

[ He gave a small shrug of his shoulders. ]

People often abandoned dogs out in the middle of nowhere, where I lived. Never understood it myself, why they couldn't at least take them to a shelter, not leave them lost and confused in the middle of nowhere.

Is that why you took them in?

[Will seems sort of like a stray himself sometimes, maybe it gets to him seeing these lost and confused animals because that's what he feels like a lot of the time. Bucky nearly snorts at himself, this psychoanalysing is catching apparently.]

[ It's not like an airborne disease, James!

Well okay, maybe kinda. Will caught it, but rather than snapping and snarling -the way he usually did when psychoanalysed- he glanced over with a quick grin. ]

I took them in because I like dogs, James. [ Will explained. Though after a breath he did clarify. ]

I like dogs, I always have. But you're right, that I'm drawn to the strays I come across and I can ... relate to how they feel; bewildered.

But it was more than that I think. Being able to provide them with a sense of structure and normalcy and maybe hoped would rub off on me and they were good companions, kept me grounded without any judgement or expectation.

Winston, he was one I picked up on the side of the road, one night he followed me and stayed at my side for almost four miles when I was sleepwalking.

Sounds like one of those service dogs.

[Isn't that their job, to follow people who might be in mental distress and keep them out of danger? Hadn't that been the job of the dog that Clark had got for him, with the exact same intention of keeping him grounded and giving him structure?

He hadn't been able to keep her, he'd been too afraid of hurting her.]

Except he wasn't specifically trained. [ Will said.

He'd noticed the lack of James' shadow but didn't comment on it. Though he missed the opportunity to interact with a dog, Will suspected the answer was none of his business. ]

Another time, it took the whole pack standing at the windows and barking to get me to wake up and recognized that I'd crawled out onto the roof of my house.

Sounds like you need to sleep in a more secure space.

[He knows what nightmares can do, but even he has never gone sleep walking. That's a good thing, he dreads to think what sort of carnage he could wreak without him even knowing about it.]

Or get a dog here.

I just don't bother sleeping much. [ Will countered with a small shrug. ] And there were ... extenuating factors causing the sleepwalking.

[ Like a raging case of encephalitis and a sociopath for a psychiatrist who was messing with his mind; literally and figuratively.

He did smile at the idea of a dog. ]

When I get my own place, there will be more than a dog. But for now, I doubt those sharing the floor of the community housing with me, would be too impressed if I brought home the strays I keep finding around here.

I had a dog, you could get one from the same place. Pretty sure nobody would give you crap about that.

[A service dog is, after all, a bit of a special exception and that dog would be able to keep Will in check if he decided to start up his midnight wanderings again.]

[ For a moment, as they walked along, Will was quiet; considering.

But then he gave his head a small shake and looked back out ahead. ]

Those dogs have a home, and a purpose. I've seen strays lingering around who are struggling to survive. They need a home more than a well trained service dog.

I guess you're right.

[Is that why Will has picked him up sometimes? Because he's a stray out on the street?]

She was a good dog, though.

[ Of the "types" that Will tended to pick up, a stray dog was probably the most flattering.

As the conversation had come back to the subject of the dog, he couldn't help himself from asking the obvious question. ]

She was a very good dog, and well trained. Which begs the question, why she's no longer with you?

It wasn't safe, I would have ended up with a dead dog sooner or later.

[Maybe not, but he didn't want to take that risk, even as much as she had proved a surprisingly good grounding influence.]

[ A few comments jumped to the tip of his tongue, but Will quickly swallowed them back. It was just challenging, not to perceive when he was around James.

For a few minutes he let the sound of their footsteps fill the silence between them, which was probably damning in and of itself. ]

[The silence tugs at the back of his head enough that he nearly simply veers off and abandons this whole conversation.]

What?

[It's a harsher question than he intends.]

[ Will takes the harsh tone in stride and turns to give James a quick look, before answering with stark honesty. ]

I'm doing that thing that you hate that I do but that I can't not do. So I'm keeping my mouth shut until we get to the bar and I have enough shots that a conversation of the merits of a Sig Sauer over a Glock seems like a good idea.

[His scowl just grows more pronounced.]

You think I should have kept the dog.

[It's not really a question, more an accusation.]

Christ, James I wish that was all I thought, but you are infinitely more complicated than that.

[ Listen, he'll save Bucky the trouble. Will starts to walk off, expecting the other man to turn and make a bee-line for the nearest tall surface with shadows. ]

[He's torn between grabbing him and making him talk about what he thought, or walking off, but in the end Will's deduction is right and he disappears into the shadows swiftly.]