[He misses Wolf Trap already. It was his home base, his nest, his hideaway. His dogs are there and he's wondering who's feeding them, but he knows that if he's missing Hannibal or Alana or Jack will go do it because... (Because they're his family. His rock. His stability, but he shies away from saying such things unless Hannibal makes him.) It's not much of a comfort, however, as he misses the dogs, their feet on the floor and the sound of their breathing and barking. It was an ambient noise of life and well-being that Will used to recharge himself.
Now it's just empty, and he's wary of this roommate that he doesn't know. He'd rather not hang around there, so despite the cold, he heads out. He uses what small amount of coin he has to buy some hot coffee and walks, trying to get acquainted with El Sera. But it isn't Wolf Trap. It isn't home and he feels like a child again, from town to town, always a stranger. He huddles down into his jacket.
The first snowball hits him at a corner and he winces, but not angrily. It takes more than a snowball to incite him, and he turns. He expects a child and finds nothing there at all. A snowball hits him from another direction. It doesn't bother him, immediately, and he steps off the sidewalk, looking for the children. Maybe if he'd have found them, he'd have set his coffee down and played with them. Children were so much easier to deal with than adults and something as mindless as a snowball fight might have made him feel a bit more at peace on a difficult day.
There aren't any children, however. And eventually, he catches sight of the pixies against the snow. The first one startles him terrible, and he throws the hot coffee all over a small swarm of them. They shriek and sink into the snow writhing. The buzz of their brethren is audible, like bees, and the onslaught of attacks comes more heavily laden with ice. It starts to sting and he ducks down, fleeing.
OPEN
Now it's just empty, and he's wary of this roommate that he doesn't know. He'd rather not hang around there, so despite the cold, he heads out. He uses what small amount of coin he has to buy some hot coffee and walks, trying to get acquainted with El Sera. But it isn't Wolf Trap. It isn't home and he feels like a child again, from town to town, always a stranger. He huddles down into his jacket.
The first snowball hits him at a corner and he winces, but not angrily. It takes more than a snowball to incite him, and he turns. He expects a child and finds nothing there at all. A snowball hits him from another direction. It doesn't bother him, immediately, and he steps off the sidewalk, looking for the children. Maybe if he'd have found them, he'd have set his coffee down and played with them. Children were so much easier to deal with than adults and something as mindless as a snowball fight might have made him feel a bit more at peace on a difficult day.
There aren't any children, however. And eventually, he catches sight of the pixies against the snow. The first one startles him terrible, and he throws the hot coffee all over a small swarm of them. They shriek and sink into the snow writhing. The buzz of their brethren is audible, like bees, and the onslaught of attacks comes more heavily laden with ice. It starts to sting and he ducks down, fleeing.
They're driving him towards the lake.]