Cover up everything you know, come save me from the awful sound of nothing [W4, Monday Night]

[hydrokinetics]

[The horse being out of his room helps, but even so Percy finds it hard to sleep. The day's events have been exhausting, strange and mildly unsatisfying. He had received the answers he needed from Sheriff Hal and yet he felt...empty.

Knowing there really was nothing he could have done to save the one person he loves more than the worlds themselves was heartbreaking, but how is it possible for a heart to break when it's already snapped? And maybe that's what happened. Maybe Sara was right. Maybe Percy already snapped. He can't recall feeling anything beyond the horribly strange blankness settling on his chest like a weight, threatening to crush him if he dared try to feel anything.

Guilt and anger and grief had stricken him multiple ways over the weekend, but now he's just...hollow.

And it's for that reason the air is static and quiet when Will enters the lounge. Percy sees him from his place on the couch near the fire, Mrs. O'Leary asleep next to him and his eyes staring straight ahead to seemingly bore straight into Will's head.

Will. How did Will know? It had bothered Percy since Saturday, but he didn't trust himself to speak to the man before now. So with the opportunity in his hands, he takes it.]

Hello, Will. [Even the tone is void of any kind of emotion, measured and careful.] What are you doing up?

Comments

[sweats]

[ There's a particularly painful twist to grief. Something that Will's become quite accustomed to during his time on the NOPD. It became even more potent, more harrowing when he joined the Bureau. It's a feeling of being both too empty and too full at once, as if everything's been overridden by an incredible blankness that spills out of the person's nose and ears and eyes. There's nothing you can really do for grief, except let it pass.

This is, of course, what Will picks up on as he steps into the lounge. Percy's grief is all consuming and washing over everything with an emptiness that makes the air acidic. Will pauses, wincing as his mind is assaulted with it and it takes a few blinks for his head to clear enough for him to focus on Percy. Winston, at his heels, notices this and curls a lip at Percy in defense of Will. ]

Having a drink. [ He lifts the bottle of whiskey in his hand, a shoulder follows right after. ] Talking to you now.

[ He takes a few steps closer, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a swallow. Then he leans against the arm of the couch nearby, Winston still at his heels and still wary. ]

Though, I have a feeling this is less talking and more accusing. Is there something on your mind, Percy?