[ For what little it might be worth, Carver isn't wrong in any of his conclusions. Will is a liar, if only because there is no way to live a life like his in the open. Like Hannibal, Will tends to keep his lies through obfuscation, and cherry picked truths but these are lies, all the same.
Right now all Will wants is to de-escalate this situation and go back to looking for a clean shirt. He's tired, he's confused, his mind is chugging along the same thought process as Carver's own. That all of this around them, is the product of his vivid imagination's last hurrah as he drowns.
Except, this close, he can feel the heat radiating off the larger man's body. He can feel the breath of those words as they pass his cheeks, and his gut is responding to the very real threat the man poses in this moment. Will doesn't want another physical altercation. This place may have healed his wounds, but the exhaustion from taking down the Red Dragon still leaves his muscles aching; all the way down to his bones.
Very well.
As astute of a hunter as he is, Carver might notice the moment the change washes through Will's body language. He does not become physically threaten precisely, but that air of command that Pope and Shaw wrapped themselves in, like a cloak, cascades through Will. Dropping the shields he'd been trying to keep raised, against his imagination, Will studies Carver's dark eyes; slides behind them.
Physical stature, mannerisms, fitness; military training and combat experience. Wherever this man came from, not only was he highly trained, but he had fought in the brutal reality actual battle. Training meant nothing, it would never compare to an actual battle.
No longer traditional military; this man was too unstable. He would have been released from service due to no longer being psychologically fit for the job. Not unlike how Will himself had been denied agent status with the FBI due to his own mental instability.
Anger, so much anger. The sort that comes from an incomprehensible loss. Loss that has triggered all the aggression of a wounded animal in permeant fight mode to survive. Definitely no 'flight' in this one.
A weapon. Honed and well tested by true fire. So much stronger than the likes of a man like Brown. More broken than a man like Dolarhyde. Closer to Mason Verger, sadistic. But where Verger had been born sadistic, had indulged his cruelty from a place of spoiled comfort, this man's sadism had been forged into him through the fires of his struggle.
Live ammo.
The thing about a living, walking weapon, was you needed to respect its nature. Especially when it had you outmatched physically. You had to respect it, but a weapon struck where it was pointed.
Strategic, and effective second-in-command but neither a leader, nor a lone wolf.
Any tension Will had been carrying as a result of Carver's aggressive advancement, washed away from him. Not because he was cocky, or ignorant of the threat Carver posed. But because Will had experience with using a deft hand to direct human weapons, and because his instincts are screaming at him that this man will find ... familiarity in structure, and direction.
The current aggression was an expression of insecurity.
Will is cognizant that saying such a thing aloud would get him killed, and probably killed slowly. It would be foolish to ignore the cocky arrogance the man wore like armor. A cocky, arrogance, that Will expects is well founded in competence.
Very well. Carver needs a hand on the reins? Will isn't interested in web spinning, or in psychologically manipulating a victim of circumstance. But, if the bigger man isn't going to give him any other options?
Will smiles, an expression with neither humor or warmth. He doesn't bear his teeth, he doesn't need to, and when he speaks his voice is soft, diction precise, tones a lift an fall is an almost hypnotic sort of cadence. ]
We are both aware that you could snap me in half without an increase in your heart-rate. [ No lie there! Yes, Will is dangerous, but in raw physicality? He needs either surprise on his side, or Hannibal in the mix to kill as a pack. ]
You outclass me from your military training alone. Include the fact that you are blooded, tried and true to survive in a world gone mad? The primal rage burning within is without a doubt your strength.
I have no interest in being your enemy. You are a forged and honed weapon, but in this minute, you do not have an appropriate target. More importantly, you are without the hand that aims you.
Not a position that lends itself to survival when trapped in unfamiliar territory. Attacking, indiscriminately, is a waste of precious resource. I am not, your enemy, but this place is a threat to the both of us.
[ It is a risk, but if Will knows nothing else, he knows that any hint of retreat will trigger this man. Instead, he steps forward so he can speak in a softer voice, more towards Carver's ear in a manner that is designed to express solidarity, against a much bigger, external threat. ]
Rage is good. Anger is good. Cultivate both, they will be your power in this place that has left us both powerless.
cw: Psychological manipulation
Right now all Will wants is to de-escalate this situation and go back to looking for a clean shirt. He's tired, he's confused, his mind is chugging along the same thought process as Carver's own. That all of this around them, is the product of his vivid imagination's last hurrah as he drowns.
Except, this close, he can feel the heat radiating off the larger man's body. He can feel the breath of those words as they pass his cheeks, and his gut is responding to the very real threat the man poses in this moment. Will doesn't want another physical altercation. This place may have healed his wounds, but the exhaustion from taking down the Red Dragon still leaves his muscles aching; all the way down to his bones.
Very well.
As astute of a hunter as he is, Carver might notice the moment the change washes through Will's body language. He does not become physically threaten precisely, but that air of command that Pope and Shaw wrapped themselves in, like a cloak, cascades through Will. Dropping the shields he'd been trying to keep raised, against his imagination, Will studies Carver's dark eyes; slides behind them.
Physical stature, mannerisms, fitness; military training and combat experience. Wherever this man came from, not only was he highly trained, but he had fought in the brutal reality actual battle. Training meant nothing, it would never compare to an actual battle.
No longer traditional military; this man was too unstable. He would have been released from service due to no longer being psychologically fit for the job. Not unlike how Will himself had been denied agent status with the FBI due to his own mental instability.
Anger, so much anger. The sort that comes from an incomprehensible loss. Loss that has triggered all the aggression of a wounded animal in permeant fight mode to survive. Definitely no 'flight' in this one.
A weapon. Honed and well tested by true fire. So much stronger than the likes of a man like Brown. More broken than a man like Dolarhyde. Closer to Mason Verger, sadistic. But where Verger had been born sadistic, had indulged his cruelty from a place of spoiled comfort, this man's sadism had been forged into him through the fires of his struggle.
Live ammo.
The thing about a living, walking weapon, was you needed to respect its nature. Especially when it had you outmatched physically. You had to respect it, but a weapon struck where it was pointed.
Strategic, and effective second-in-command but neither a leader, nor a lone wolf.
Any tension Will had been carrying as a result of Carver's aggressive advancement, washed away from him. Not because he was cocky, or ignorant of the threat Carver posed. But because Will had experience with using a deft hand to direct human weapons, and because his instincts are screaming at him that this man will find ... familiarity in structure, and direction.
The current aggression was an expression of insecurity.
Will is cognizant that saying such a thing aloud would get him killed, and probably killed slowly. It would be foolish to ignore the cocky arrogance the man wore like armor. A cocky, arrogance, that Will expects is well founded in competence.
Very well. Carver needs a hand on the reins? Will isn't interested in web spinning, or in psychologically manipulating a victim of circumstance. But, if the bigger man isn't going to give him any other options?
Will smiles, an expression with neither humor or warmth. He doesn't bear his teeth, he doesn't need to, and when he speaks his voice is soft, diction precise, tones a lift an fall is an almost hypnotic sort of cadence. ]
We are both aware that you could snap me in half without an increase in your heart-rate. [ No lie there! Yes, Will is dangerous, but in raw physicality? He needs either surprise on his side, or Hannibal in the mix to kill as a pack. ]
You outclass me from your military training alone. Include the fact that you are blooded, tried and true to survive in a world gone mad? The primal rage burning within is without a doubt your strength.
I have no interest in being your enemy. You are a forged and honed weapon, but in this minute, you do not have an appropriate target. More importantly, you are without the hand that aims you.
Not a position that lends itself to survival when trapped in unfamiliar territory. Attacking, indiscriminately, is a waste of precious resource. I am not, your enemy, but this place is a threat to the both of us.
[ It is a risk, but if Will knows nothing else, he knows that any hint of retreat will trigger this man. Instead, he steps forward so he can speak in a softer voice, more towards Carver's ear in a manner that is designed to express solidarity, against a much bigger, external threat. ]
Rage is good. Anger is good. Cultivate both, they will be your power in this place that has left us both powerless.
But now is not the time for action.