( Things Will notices in rapid fire succession: the roughness in the timber of his voice before even the scarring on his face, the hood drawn in an unsuccessful perfunctory attempt to conceal it (he must know that it isn't working, but he performs the ritual regardless), the contemplation, the tidings he bears - charity or obligation? He's not sure yet. The former, probably - truly selfish or wicked men generally don't hide the things that make people instinctively uncomfortable.
For what it's worth, there isn't even so much as a flicker in him at the sound or the sight of it. It's funny, the way expressions and traits are equally loud to him, whether they're scars or flawless beauty.
He seems discontent with the answer, head cocking to one frustrated side, lips twitching with restrained effort to keep them from curling. )
And if there are — extenuating circumstances?
( Namely that you have a hard time being around other people without losing your shit because you were riding out the waves of a psychotic break before a replay of the events that brought you there except on a boat. )
no subject
For what it's worth, there isn't even so much as a flicker in him at the sound or the sight of it. It's funny, the way expressions and traits are equally loud to him, whether they're scars or flawless beauty.
He seems discontent with the answer, head cocking to one frustrated side, lips twitching with restrained effort to keep them from curling. )
And if there are — extenuating circumstances?
( Namely that you have a hard time being around other people without losing your shit because you were riding out the waves of a psychotic break before a replay of the events that brought you there except on a boat. )