[ Will points out facts in a direction that he knows is sensitive, and in return he gets...honesty. In a depth he's surprised to receive from someone as calmly private as Ben seems, and from someone who Will had unwittingly invaded the privacy of before.
He lets this sink in for a while. ] threes. tapping your fingers and your cigarettes and your matches. i hadn't realized it was...is it ocd? [ All the observations, left in the clutter of ones for Ben, suddenly string themselves together for Will at the words compulsive disorder. He hands them over dutifully, so as with the tent, Ben can keep abreast of just how much Will's learned about him. With Ben, that feels-- fair.
What do you say to a man who learned how to chase the monsters out from under his bed, and now looks for other beds to cleanse? ]
too many people in the same setting? or too passive? you seem like you'd prefer to do the tidying up yourself instead of trusting someone else to understand your instructions.
not that i should be interrogating someone on what guilts and compulsions and desires brought them to their careers.
I'm sure this is hardly an interrogation, seeing as you're ex-police and all.
Yes, OCD. I've lived with it since, before. (before, and Will should know what that means.
that is...a very warranted question. and it focuses not on the topic that everyone else has historically honed in on: Ben's belief in God, which is an extremely tricky thing. )
I'm not really charming enough to be the media representative of someone that no one has ever seen.
Not to belittle the priesthood. It's good work, and the best of them save lives. My uncle is nothing short of a hero in my eyes, and I respect everything that he, his fellow men, the sisters, and the entire clergy do.
I suppose...too passive. I ask too many questions. Do too many things.
Don't let me try to be someone else's life coach. ( Ben is laughing earnestly, to himself. it would be a terrible idea. )
are you sassing me? [ What can't come across, unfortunately, is the incredulous amusement that marks Will's tone.
And then Will's confirmed for being correct - not that Ben was being coy so much as politely non-specific. And then Will is...given more than he thought he might be given. One two topics, both deeply personal. It's like holding gold in his hands, and for a few moments, it's a welcome distraction from the town and its myriad issues. Just him and another human, connecting in strange ways across a brief distance. ]
i don't know about that. you've been pretty charming so far.
i think like a lot of jobs that hold power over anyone, how much good it does is entirely up to the person in that position.
sounds like your uncle did a great job. with you, i mean, although it sounds like he helped other people too. [ This all feels oddly vulnerable, but Will can't help the foreign fascination with a family unit that means something to its members. For all his powers of absorbing meaning from other people, he's never quite been able to understand the sensation of being part of a family. ]
sounds like we both had the same problem. easier to be the exterminator than the counselor.
I wasn't, but now I wish I had been, just to assure how uncharming I really am. ( Ben actually can't tell if there is mirth there, but he feels the draw to assume that it's there, subtle in their pixelated words.
mostly because Will calls him charming, and Ben's stomach does somersaults. how does he keep the momentum of a remark like that? by being a bad flirt. he rather agonizes over the lack of tone to be read; he can't help but wonder how it would have landed, had Will been able to say it live to him. )
We certainly shaped each other. He was hit by the tragedy just as much as I was. But I cannot say that he didn't literally have a hand in shaping me into who I am now. ( how involved Ben became with the church, showing him everything involving demonology, hell — Tobias introduced Ben to his own herbalist that he's been visiting bi-monthly for two decades.
he even taught Ben how to cook. )
Well, if it helps, you're a wonderful counselor for this end of things. ( well-veiled vulnerability being laid out here, except Ben thinks that Will...can absolutely see what Ben admits to here: how cherished his friendship has become thus far, and so quickly. Ben isn't often so sentimental (because yes, this counts as sentimental for him) but...then again. life isn't usually this absolutely batty, either. )
[ Instinct shapes Will's question: ] was he your father's brother? [ It's inconsequential to the point of being rude to ask, maybe, but... Will can't quite keep his curiosity at bay. His curiosity is never actually professional, but in this moment, it feels particularly personal. He feels a shade of Ben's pain, and he wonders what the depth of it is.
Pull back. Focus. Pay attention. And-- be stunned by what's there to read. Will laughs out loud, and finds he doesn't like the sound of it. ]
careful. i'd make an even worse life coach than you. [ But-- but what, though? He's glad he could help? That's what's implied, maybe, but it feels presumptuous to say. In the end, the most honest answer is what Will can accept to type. ]
i'm not sure what else to say that doesn't sound like i'm thinking too highly about my own influence. but i'm glad for your sake that i'm getting something right.
( it would be a lie to say Ben isn't surprised by the question, but...it's miles from offensive. Will requests a finer detail behind Ben's personal life, about his family that stands half as a faded out photograph now. these are details that Ben either doesn't have to give away, when so many of who know his family simultaneously knew his family, or...don't know much at all. and if they don't know, it stays that way.
it takes consideration to move forward, but not a full deliberation. )
He is. My mother was an only child. My uncle is the younger of the two brothers. ( ancestral information can either be as simple as facts on a page, or as personal as a keepsake. for Ben, it's equally both. )
Perhaps only in bedside manner. ( but Ben's smile is, hopefully, palpable through the pixels. )
No grandeur needed. I think we're both too humble to look at our influence over others directly, when we want to or actually do the right thing. It isn't for ourselves.
[ There's an ache to hear an accurate family history. Will decides against offering up anything of his own - it's too hard to twist it into a shape that wouldn't block out the light Ben's just offered. ]
if nothing else, we'll end up self-reflecting more because we keep accidentally seeing reflections in each other.
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wontgraham) wrote2019-04-10 08:46 pm
no subject
He lets this sink in for a while. ] threes. tapping your fingers and your cigarettes and your matches. i hadn't realized it was...is it ocd? [ All the observations, left in the clutter of ones for Ben, suddenly string themselves together for Will at the words compulsive disorder. He hands them over dutifully, so as with the tent, Ben can keep abreast of just how much Will's learned about him. With Ben, that feels-- fair.
What do you say to a man who learned how to chase the monsters out from under his bed, and now looks for other beds to cleanse? ]
too many people in the same setting? or too passive? you seem like you'd prefer to do the tidying up yourself instead of trusting someone else to understand your instructions.
not that i should be interrogating someone on what guilts and compulsions and desires brought them to their careers.
no subject
Yes, OCD. I've lived with it since, before. ( before, and Will should know what that means.
that is...a very warranted question. and it focuses not on the topic that everyone else has historically honed in on: Ben's belief in God, which is an extremely tricky thing. )
I'm not really charming enough to be the media representative of someone that no one has ever seen.
Not to belittle the priesthood. It's good work, and the best of them save lives. My uncle is nothing short of a hero in my eyes, and I respect everything that he, his fellow men, the sisters, and the entire clergy do.
I suppose...too passive. I ask too many questions. Do too many things.
Don't let me try to be someone else's life coach. ( Ben is laughing earnestly, to himself. it would be a terrible idea. )
no subject
And then Will's confirmed for being correct - not that Ben was being coy so much as politely non-specific. And then Will is...given more than he thought he might be given. One two topics, both deeply personal. It's like holding gold in his hands, and for a few moments, it's a welcome distraction from the town and its myriad issues. Just him and another human, connecting in strange ways across a brief distance. ]
i don't know about that. you've been pretty charming so far.
i think like a lot of jobs that hold power over anyone, how much good it does is entirely up to the person in that position.
sounds like your uncle did a great job. with you, i mean, although it sounds like he helped other people too. [ This all feels oddly vulnerable, but Will can't help the foreign fascination with a family unit that means something to its members. For all his powers of absorbing meaning from other people, he's never quite been able to understand the sensation of being part of a family. ]
sounds like we both had the same problem. easier to be the exterminator than the counselor.
no subject
mostly because Will calls him charming, and Ben's stomach does somersaults. how does he keep the momentum of a remark like that? by being a bad flirt. he rather agonizes over the lack of tone to be read; he can't help but wonder how it would have landed, had Will been able to say it live to him. )
We certainly shaped each other. He was hit by the tragedy just as much as I was. But I cannot say that he didn't literally have a hand in shaping me into who I am now. ( how involved Ben became with the church, showing him everything involving demonology, hell — Tobias introduced Ben to his own herbalist that he's been visiting bi-monthly for two decades.
he even taught Ben how to cook. )
Well, if it helps, you're a wonderful counselor for this end of things. ( well-veiled vulnerability being laid out here, except Ben thinks that Will...can absolutely see what Ben admits to here: how cherished his friendship has become thus far, and so quickly. Ben isn't often so sentimental (because yes, this counts as sentimental for him) but...then again. life isn't usually this absolutely batty, either. )
no subject
Pull back. Focus. Pay attention. And-- be stunned by what's there to read. Will laughs out loud, and finds he doesn't like the sound of it. ]
careful. i'd make an even worse life coach than you. [ But-- but what, though? He's glad he could help? That's what's implied, maybe, but it feels presumptuous to say. In the end, the most honest answer is what Will can accept to type. ]
i'm not sure what else to say that doesn't sound like i'm thinking too highly about my own influence. but i'm glad for your sake that i'm getting something right.
no subject
it takes consideration to move forward, but not a full deliberation. )
He is. My mother was an only child. My uncle is the younger of the two brothers. ( ancestral information can either be as simple as facts on a page, or as personal as a keepsake. for Ben, it's equally both. )
Perhaps only in bedside manner. ( but Ben's smile is, hopefully, palpable through the pixels. )
No grandeur needed. I think we're both too humble to look at our influence over others directly, when we want to or actually do the right thing. It isn't for ourselves.
no subject
if nothing else, we'll end up self-reflecting more because we keep accidentally seeing reflections in each other.
thanks, again. for telling me about the message.