It would be an accurate assessment to say that I am paying your conversations particular attention. If I can see it, I follow it until I can't. If it's public, I've noted it and compartmentalized them for later reference, should the need ever arise.
[Compartments like "small talk" and "positive interpersonal relationships" (which he has no desire to look into further) followed alongside "related to Baltimore" (oh, Danger) and "potentially disastrous" which echoed folders he'd eventually have on multiple people here.
The people in Will's life have a horrible track record of getting screwed over, but he's yet to realize how major a factor he plays in that. He's yet to realize that the Ripper has been playing him along with Jack Crawford, along with everyone else. He's yet to realize who the Ripper is, but he has all these puzzle pieces left in the wake of public talks he could put together if he wanted to, but why would he?
Abel Gideon and Frederick Chilton and Freddie Lounds are not high on Will's list of people he feels anything positively for. They are, however, the people he knows, and two of them happen to get into quite a bit of trouble. FBI's darling consultant bloodhound keeps his nose down and would like to stay out of their business—to their faces. Food metaphors or not, if it's public and mentions them or comes from them, he consumes it. He might be tempted to scoff or roll his eyes, but the wonderful thing is:]
Let me add that I make no judgment calls. I am not following you because I find your social life of interest or entertaining. I do it on the clock when no one's in the shop. It wouldn't be a lie call it business. I'm getting paid no matter what I'm doing.
[Chilton (and Gideon, and Lounds) didn't have to act to get Will to pay them notice, to be invested. They just had to be them, had to be entangled. Unfortunately, he didn't know what else just being them wrought in the end of things. Whatever shit they pulled on him, didn't matter. He'd always peruse and make note of what he could see, and it had nothing to do with meeting up later and gossiping about it. Even if he was reading mentions of his insanity, he'd trudge right on. Might get a drink, but he'd get all of it he could even if he had to toss back more than usual.]
Your business is yours, mine is mine. Neglected to mention they overlap. You hadn't picked that up already? Notes for future reference. I'd offer to stop, since it could be seen as invasive and rude and bordering on obsessive, but I think you're smart enough to know that's not the case.
[If Chilton wants him to stop, too fucking bad; Will's not going to quit sniffing everyone out until they stop getting themselves gutted and abducted and paralyzed. What he doesn't know.]
Don't expect me to shoot anyone else in the head. Seems my aim up close isn't something to count on.
[Not even a bit of brain damage. How shitty a shot was he?
Will wasn't doing this solely for Chilton or Gideon or Lounds. Will was doing this because he felt obligated (guilt even worlds away) to them for one underlying reason and multiple others unique to what relationships he knew they had.
He's purposefully leaving out that dirty, dirty f-word.]
no subject
[Compartments like "small talk" and "positive interpersonal relationships" (which he has no desire to look into further) followed alongside "related to Baltimore" (oh, Danger) and "potentially disastrous" which echoed folders he'd eventually have on multiple people here.
The people in Will's life have a horrible track record of getting screwed over, but he's yet to realize how major a factor he plays in that. He's yet to realize that the Ripper has been playing him along with Jack Crawford, along with everyone else. He's yet to realize who the Ripper is, but he has all these puzzle pieces left in the wake of public talks he could put together if he wanted to, but why would he?
Abel Gideon and Frederick Chilton and Freddie Lounds are not high on Will's list of people he feels anything positively for. They are, however, the people he knows, and two of them happen to get into quite a bit of trouble. FBI's darling consultant bloodhound keeps his nose down and would like to stay out of their business—to their faces. Food metaphors or not, if it's public and mentions them or comes from them, he consumes it. He might be tempted to scoff or roll his eyes, but the wonderful thing is:]
Let me add that I make no judgment calls. I am not following you because I find your social life of interest or entertaining. I do it on the clock when no one's in the shop. It wouldn't be a lie call it business. I'm getting paid no matter what I'm doing.
[Chilton (and Gideon, and Lounds) didn't have to act to get Will to pay them notice, to be invested. They just had to be them, had to be entangled. Unfortunately, he didn't know what else just being them wrought in the end of things. Whatever shit they pulled on him, didn't matter. He'd always peruse and make note of what he could see, and it had nothing to do with meeting up later and gossiping about it. Even if he was reading mentions of his insanity, he'd trudge right on. Might get a drink, but he'd get all of it he could even if he had to toss back more than usual.]
Your business is yours, mine is mine. Neglected to mention they overlap. You hadn't picked that up already? Notes for future reference.
I'd offer to stop, since it could be seen as invasive and rude and bordering on obsessive, but I think you're smart enough to know that's not the case.
[If Chilton wants him to stop, too fucking bad; Will's not going to quit sniffing everyone out until they stop getting themselves gutted and abducted and paralyzed. What he doesn't know.]
Don't expect me to shoot anyone else in the head. Seems my aim up close isn't something to count on.
[Not even a bit of brain damage. How shitty a shot was he?
Will wasn't doing this solely for Chilton or Gideon or Lounds. Will was doing this because he felt obligated (guilt even worlds away) to them for one underlying reason and multiple others unique to what relationships he knew they had.
He's purposefully leaving out that dirty, dirty f-word.]