[ Will glanced over and offered House a small smirk as he read the flip in his tone. He let it go, figuring it wasn't really bait from the other man. ]
It's invasive and more than a little creepy. [ He groused. As someone who has been sniffed ... often, he feels he can say this.
Ah there it was, the more subtle bait laying a hook that looked so innocent. Will eyed it pensively, swam lazily around it's temptation and considered swimming away. But what was the point anymore?
After a moment he shrugged and walked over to the side of the bed. Sinking down on his knees, he reached out and picked up a bolt, rolling it around in his fingers. ]
Depends upon who you ask. [ He said after a moment. ] Jack always said I made unique intuitive leaps, to which I always told him that the evidence made the leaps, he just had to be willing to see it.
The Ripper diagnosed that I had an overabundance of neurons we have in childhood, meant to encourage our associations. Which I think was just a ninety-nine cent way of saying I had an overactive imagination.
[ Will looked down at the bolt in his hand and then reached to set it back in place, careful to make sure it lined up perfectly. ]
The reality is somewhere in between those two extremes. I walk onto a crime scene, take in all the evidence and then my imagination allows me to recreate the scene in my head. Then I take the evidence of what was done to the body and I allow myself to recreate doing it, in my head.
All the sounds, the tastes, the scents ... the feel [ He looked down at his hands, flexing long fingers. ] the beauty of it, as perceived by the killer's mind. What he was thinking, in that moment, what he felt, believed, ached to produce.
[ He looked up and had to blink a couple of times and even then, suddenly the room was filled with them. Hobbs, Budge, Wells, Gideon, Tier, Brown, the unnamed man, Dolaryhyde. They circled them, Dolarhyde crouching down beside House and watching him curiously, his tail lashing slowly; Francis always had been a curious creature.
Wells stood off against a wall, looking achey with the cold, disgruntled. Gideon stood over House, imperious but also a little inquisitive. Budge was already circling the room, like a trapped shark. Tier was crouched by the door, scratching the frame with a long claw, Hobbs ... Hobbs sat next to Will, smiling at him knowingly, Brown on his other side, looking adoring.
Will cleared his throat and reached up to rub at his eye. ]
Like I told you, months ago. You let people like that into your head, they never neaten up before the leave. Always a dirty sock or that mildew laden toothbrush left behind. Can't get rid of those smells.
no subject
It's invasive and more than a little creepy. [ He groused. As someone who has been sniffed ... often, he feels he can say this.
Ah there it was, the more subtle bait laying a hook that looked so innocent. Will eyed it pensively, swam lazily around it's temptation and considered swimming away. But what was the point anymore?
After a moment he shrugged and walked over to the side of the bed. Sinking down on his knees, he reached out and picked up a bolt, rolling it around in his fingers. ]
Depends upon who you ask. [ He said after a moment. ] Jack always said I made unique intuitive leaps, to which I always told him that the evidence made the leaps, he just had to be willing to see it.
The Ripper diagnosed that I had an overabundance of neurons we have in childhood, meant to encourage our associations. Which I think was just a ninety-nine cent way of saying I had an overactive imagination.
[ Will looked down at the bolt in his hand and then reached to set it back in place, careful to make sure it lined up perfectly. ]
The reality is somewhere in between those two extremes. I walk onto a crime scene, take in all the evidence and then my imagination allows me to recreate the scene in my head. Then I take the evidence of what was done to the body and I allow myself to recreate doing it, in my head.
All the sounds, the tastes, the scents ... the feel [ He looked down at his hands, flexing long fingers. ] the beauty of it, as perceived by the killer's mind. What he was thinking, in that moment, what he felt, believed, ached to produce.
[ He looked up and had to blink a couple of times and even then, suddenly the room was filled with them. Hobbs, Budge, Wells, Gideon, Tier, Brown, the unnamed man, Dolaryhyde. They circled them, Dolarhyde crouching down beside House and watching him curiously, his tail lashing slowly; Francis always had been a curious creature.
Wells stood off against a wall, looking achey with the cold, disgruntled. Gideon stood over House, imperious but also a little inquisitive. Budge was already circling the room, like a trapped shark. Tier was crouched by the door, scratching the frame with a long claw, Hobbs ... Hobbs sat next to Will, smiling at him knowingly, Brown on his other side, looking adoring.
Will cleared his throat and reached up to rub at his eye. ]
Like I told you, months ago. You let people like that into your head, they never neaten up before the leave. Always a dirty sock or that mildew laden toothbrush left behind. Can't get rid of those smells.