THE SKY WENT OFF-WHITE.

[wastemods]

WHO: Anyone and everyone.
WHAT: Our inaugural test drive meme.
WHERE: Anywhere in the world core.
WHEN: Whenever your character arrives.
NOTES: Expect surreal horror and possible violence. Please use common sense when warning for other content.

Art by Basile Godard

THE SUNLIGHT SPLINTERED.

You reach the end of the ash-gray hall at a run, hands fumbling for an antique door handle. And then you stumble, fall, tumble—any number of adjectives, depending on where, exactly, the door opened—into a radio station.

The equipment is old and dusty, but devoid of cobwebs to the observant eye. And it's dark, save for whatever light makes it through the windows. They display disjointed locations; perhaps one shows an upside-down tower, while its neighbors frame the crumbling pavement of a rotting car park and the stripped out interior of a sewer. Whatever the case, peering through one window reveals a landscape that impossibly doesn't connect to the next.

The door is still there, the only exit to this grubby room. It opens somewhere, anywhere else in this distorted world. And once you leave, it no longer leads back whence you came.

Where do you go?

THE LIGHT, DIVIDED.

A sun on one horizon, a full moon on the other. They're luminous but unreal, like they were plucked from a sky and pasted to a flat, starless backdrop. You can see only one, depending on which side you entered; it's essentially random. Both "sides" overlap like alternate dimensions and you can't see anyone who isn't on the same side as you. Light or dark, you walk in the light of a muted sun or an overbright moon. It never feels quite real.

Neither star nor satellite seem to move from their position. The passage of time is at a standstill.

Regardless of which side you're on, you'll find signs that you aren't alone. What someone does on one side affects the other, so moving an item or writing something down will translate to floating items and mysteriously appearing letters. Speech doesn't travel...unless there's a radio. Radios may turn on and off, with voices audible through the white noise. And if you walk past a mirror, the reflection isn't your own. Instead, it acts as a window to the other side.

In-character observations:

• Anyone sensitive to time, space, and related dimensional shenanigans will feel they're distorted. And it isn't something they can fix, at least not with powers.
• It's possible to cross dimensions if a character has related powers, but they'll suffer backlash and significant stress from the transition. Successive jumps aren't gonna fly.
• If a character is affected by the sun or moon, they'll find neither holds sway over them here; e.g., vampires can walk in daylight and werewolves won't shift in the full moon.

TL;DR: Whatever this is, it isn't natural.

THE SHADOW REALM.

Outdoors, there are shadows on the prowl.

Silent and eerily insubstantial, they trail after you like blind spots given form. Staring at them too long is unsettling but, for the most part, they're content to watch you back...if they can watch. They don't seem to have eyes.

When that isn't enough, however, they attack. Stealing the shape of monsters from other worlds, they may lack special powers, but that doesn't keep them from being dangerous. When in doubt, you're safest indoors.

But maybe that isn't good enough for you. Or maybe you just fucked up. Either/or.

RADIO WAVES.

If you aren't wondering how you got here, you're probably at least asking why. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be anyone around who can answer your questions. Everyone else is as clueless as you.

But, some time after you arrive—whether it's days, hours, minutes, or seconds—the dead air stirs. The atmospheric pressure drops and playhouse lightning arcs across the facsimile of a sky. It's a storm that warns of what's to come, as an earthquake shifts the ground beneath your feet. Around you, buildings flood, and water pours out in falls only half aware of gravity. Wind hurls debris at such high speeds, it turns into shrapnel. Rain pelts you from above and below as the temperature plummets. It starts to snow.

Somehow, the sun and moon remain visible through the turmoil. A collection of mirrors scattered through the world don't reflect their light; instead, it passes through them and illuminates the other side. These specific mirrors, all set in ash-gray frames that match the halls, are untouched in the unfolding natural disasters, and standing before them will shield you as well. Consider them havens in the chaos, proverbial eyes in the storm.

In the dark, a radio turns on of its own accord. Is someone—something—talking to you?

INTO ALL OUR DARKEST FEARS.

Welcome to THE WASTEYARD's first test drive! Some quick things to remember:

• Our TDMs tie into the game plot. As such, any applicants can keep their TDM threads as game canon.
• The network is exclusive to in-game characters. TDM characters can only use radios.
• There is a language barrier, so please mention what language your character speaks somewhere.
• We don't have a fixed day ratio; instead, you pace yourself at your discretion.
• Characters may face backlash when using any powers.
• Mark if your character is on the sun or moon side of the divide. The choice is yours as the player.
• If you have any questions, please direct them to our FAQ!

And that's all, folks. So take chances, make mistakes, and get messy!

NAVIGATION.

PREMISE
RULES
FAQ
ACTIVITY
APPLICATIONS

TAKEN
HIATUSES & DROPS
CANON UPDATES
REWARDS
TPC CLAIMS

WORLD
EXPLORATION
DEVICES
QUESTS
INFORMATION

CALENDAR
SUGGESTIONS
MOD CONTACT
SETTING INBOX
CODEBOOK

Comments

will graham | nbc's hannibal [ night side ]

[wontgraham]

food ghost?? [interacting with the sun side]

[ Will hadn't been exploring more than an hour before he found what he knew he needed to find first: food. The rest of his existential panicking could happen after he'd proven that a completely man-made-looking landscape had anything resembling resources to pillage for food.

Maybe it was appropriate, then, that a place constructed entirely of metal and concrete and old rotting plywood came up with...jerky. More of it than Will would really like to use to subsist on for the next uncertain amount of time, but at least it's calorie-dense, right?

Will's just finished putting all of it in his pockets when he sees another one. Odd, since he's pretty sure he grabbed all of them, but then when he reaches for it - it shifts up on its own.

He's already seen one building leaning at an impossible angle, and he's heard of Inception, so please excuse him if his overworked imagination decides this means 'gravity is about to give up on him' and not 'ghosts'. His first instinct is to jerk back away from it and grab onto the nearest object, which turns out to be a desk.

The little jerky stick, clearly ignorant of Will's panic, then just...winks out of existence. Okay. Will's just straightening back up, heart still in his throat, as he pats his own pockets full of jerky back down...

Huh. That move-and-then-disappear routine almost was as if...someone Will couldn't see was shoving the food into its own pocket... Weird. A weird idea even for Will, and he takes a moment thinking it over and wondering if this is a useful insight or just a bad dream following him into waking hours.

Will can't resist testing the theory, no matter how ridiculous. He slowly takes one of the jerky sticks out of his own pocket - yes, he's curious enough to risk limited food over this, at least right now, taken in by the mystery. He puts it on the ground...and waits, crouched next to it, trying not to feel ridiculous. Whatever picked up the last bit of jerky...are you interested in this one, too? ]

bad dog. [shadow creature encounter]

[ After securing himself enough food that Will's no longer worried he'll starve to death before anything else dangerous gets a chance to try killing him, his explorations can change in tone a little bit. More specifically, he can root through buildings for more supplies than just 'can I eat this or use it to treat wounds?'

Which is probably how he ends up disturbing...whatever it is he disturbs.

Will's been outside during the majority of this exploration - however loose that term feels when there's nothing like woods or green spaces to be seen - and it turns out that was a bad call. Right now, he's crouched low to the ground, absolutely still and silent, swallowing against the pressure of his heart hammering too-high in his throat. In front of him is...

...He's not sure how to describe it. A shadow suspended in the air, or maybe instead of the air. Whatever he's seeing, it feels like not seeing it. It's a spot that's shaped by the space around it more than whatever's inside of it.

And it's shaped like a large, angry dog. (What did you expect? Will's home universe isn't known for real supernatural horrors, just metaphoric ones.)

Will hears a sound across from him, and he'd think it was this crouched, waiting dog if he wasn't already watching it for any tell-tale movements. Instead, he sees movement beyond the dog, and...

...It's a shame, because this is the first human Will's seen in person since he arrived here. So it's too bad the first emotion about that that he gets to have, after about half a second of relief, is absolute panic. Because it seems like they haven't spotted whatever the shadow-animal is, and they're making way too much noise. It's already turning towards them.

So Will does the only reasonable thing he can think of, and throws the nearest object - turns out to be the cushion of a long-broken stool - as hard as he can at the shadow-creature. ] Run!

radio gaga. [interacting with either side, via radio]

[ Will hasn't used a bus stop in years, but he'd ducked right under the shelter of one when he'd seen it. After the shadow creature encounter, he's eager for shelter, even if he's not too excited about the idea of being boxed in. But seeing as this bus stop merges abruptly with the bus itself, that at least means he's got plenty of windows to break and escape through, if the worst happens.

The bus has no indications of what route it used to take - in fact the longer Will plays with the steering wheel, checks over the pedals, and tries - unsuccessfully - to access the engine, the more he's convinced this was never a real, moving bus. He's not sure what to call whatever it actually is.

So imagine his surprise when the radio speaker, wired into the bus itself...turns on when he presses the 'talk' button. Huh.

Well...considering what's already happened, how much worse could this get if he calls out to the scenery at large? Will hesitates with it held in one dust-smeared hand, staring at it. And then, ]

Hello? [ There's white noise from the radio whenever he's not depressing the button to speak into it. Will's never actually used old-fashioned radios like this, but he's seen enough movies to get the gist. One person talks at a time, right? He waits a moment and can't decide, amidst the crackle, if he hears anything yet. ]

Is anyone there?

ooc. {will's got an existing app in his journal that goes (at length) into his character if you're interested in background before tagging; likewise there's a permissions post there as well. feel free to tweak either prompt a bit to facilitate meeting your character! pm if you'd like to plot further. will is speaking english, altho i'm very happy to play with language barriers.}

radio gaga

[calculo]

[ the radio he'd found is old. there's burn damage to one end and the antenna's bent but it seems to work. it's been projecting straight white noise since he turned it on but that's better than nothing. it's better than the overarching silence he's been dealing with since he started walking.

it gives his mind something to focus on.

robbie almost jumps when someone's voice comes through the radio. it's tinny and jumpy but it's definitely a voice. he stares at it, contemplating answering. he doesn't know who this is, doesn't know what they want but it's the first sign of life he's had besides that shadow. ]

Yeah.

[ simple, to the point. ]

Someone's here.

[wontgraham]

[ On the first try, no less. Not dissimilar to the mirror, then. Will stares at the radio in his hand for a beat too long, quiet in his surprise and turning this over in his head, before he hits the button again. ]

I'd ask where you are, but I have a feeling your surroundings are just as...temperamental as mine. [ Will can't help the sliver of hope that means he looks out the windows of this bus, even though he can't say he expects to actually see anyone. ]

[calculo]

I'm looking at a wall.

( in the grand scheme of things, not too exciting. )

I don't think it was there five minutes ago.

( he's not going to admit he's lost but he sure as hell doesn't know where he is. this place didn't exactly come with a map and this guy's voice is one of the first things he's heard that isn't his own thoughts rattling around his head. )

I'd give you a landmark but it'd just be...dust, debris and rocks.

[wontgraham]

Can't say I'm surprised. [ Well, he is, just not about the scenery being equally as useless. Will's stunned that he's connected with someone else, this time with someone he can hear, but everything else?

Yeah. Walls appearing out of nowhere sounds par for the course, now. ]

I've got...a bus where I am. I don't know if you can see one from where you are.

[ ...How far can a radio signal travel, anyway, and are these things following any more laws than the rest of the landscape? ]

[calculo]

You found a bus? Is it running?

( if it wasn't, he might be able to get it running. there was a lack of tools to think about but he'd done more with less. )

I don't see a bus but I guess I can...start walking.

( what the hell else was there to do? )

What's your name?

[wontgraham]

Sounds like the start of a prank call... [ Possibly a waste of radio waves to share that, but impulsive connections are impulsive connections. Will's standing now, craning his neck to look out both sides of windows. Rows of normal things twisted beyond and beside recognition greet him; stairs that ascend to nothing, buildings with doors facing the wrong direction, a bench with its upholstery on the base instead of the top.

No sign of a person yet, though. ] And— no, it isn't.

There's no wheels. [ In case anyone thought fixing this bus was a remote possibility. ] It looks like it's...grown into the ground.

[ The question is a stark, humanizing moment. Will's quiet for a little too long out of pure surprise. ] Will, [ he finally shares over the radio. ] What's yours?

[calculo]

( well, there goes any thoughts of fixing the bus. he almost laughs because of course. ) Thought about fixing it. That's what I did back home. Fixed cars. But no wheels are kind of a problem. Can't just find those anywhere.

( so walking it was. he keeps moving, eyes flicking from one spot to another for any sign of a wheel less bus. )

Robbie. ( mice to meet you and all that. ) If it's grown into the ground, means it's been there awhile. Means this place has been here awhile.

( and yet, this is the first he's hearing of it. or seeing of it. ) Robbie. ( nice to meet you and all that. )

You okay on your bus?

food ghost.

[ascocarp]

[Ellie's first inclination is to hoard as well. She sees something like food, and shoves it into a scratchy bag she's been stuffing with whatever crap she can find. More jerky appears? Weird, worrying, but she'll figure out if it's poisoned later. For now: Food.]

[There don't seem to be any animals around here to hunt.]

[She seems to be alone. Ellie crouches down in a wing-backed chair, accidentally smearing a layer of dust and not caring. The wood of the chair creaks under her meager weight as she tentatively unwraps the jerky and slowly begins nibbling on it, trying to decide if the taste is off.]

[wontgraham]

[ When the jerky does, in fact, rise up of its own accord again, Will watches it with open, slack-jawed awe. He swallows and scoots back, coming out of his crouch, when it shifts before disappearing.

He wouldn't call this fear, exactly, but the fact that impossible things keep happening makes him want to distrust his own senses. It leaves an acidic taste in his mouth, but as he looks over the room for any further signs of anything odd...

Did that chair...creak? Will jerks to look at it, but it's empty. Coming over to inspect it means he sees...a distinct smear on one dusty arm.

Instinctively, he touches it, smears the dust more himself with one cautious hand. ]

[ascocarp]

[From long practice, Ellie has learned the art of hyperawareness. The amount of times Joel had shouted her down for not properly paying attention... Suffice to say, when something moves out of the corner of her eye, she stills immediately.]

[It's... a smudge on the wood of the chair. No, not a smudge. The dust clearing away. She watches it long enough to tell it's purposeful, not a trick of the light or a strange current in the air.] What the fuck...

[But she's more curious than afraid. Weird dust ghosts almost seem cozy compared to the prospect of intruders, invaders, the infected, and killer shadows. She smiles lightly, and draws a smiley face.]

[wontgraham]

[ Will's watching it for a change, this time, and it's...whimsical.

Intelligent, even.

Okay, so...ghost? Will thinks of the mirror earlier and how he'd been able to see but not hear through it. Is this...another variation on that, or...is the scenery sentient?

Will's no artist, but he can manage a quick stick-figure of a person, right next to that smiley face.

They're rapidly running out of room on this arm, unfortunately. Hopefully the other one's just as dusty. ]

[ascocarp]

[Ellie laughs quietly to herself.] Neat.

[She wonders how this works. It's a bit of wonder she'd like to maintain. Some things in the world are just... precious and rare. They need to be kept. She doesn't let herself question the impulse, knowing Joel wouldn't approve, and she'd have to acknowledge that fact. She doesn't want to.]

[She grabbed a lot of shit earlier, mostly with the intention of making shivs and bombs. Nails and scissors and tape and tin cans, mostly, but she did have a few pens. One of them even has ink in it. She wonders if the phenomena is only subject to the chair?]

[Only one way to find out. On the peeling wallpaper behind her, she writes-] my name is Ellie ☺

[wontgraham]

[ Will's so busy watching the arms of the chair that he doesn't look anywhere else until he hears something behind him. He jolts and turns and can already see...lines appearing on the wall, in red.

Any threat from that fact disappears when Will approaches, close enough to see that it's the uneven, pointed effect of a ballpoint pen. It even scratches clear through the wallpaper at one point. Will stares at the incredibly normal detail of it, even if it's scrawling itself across the wall with no other human visible.

Will has no real-world basis to make guesses, here. Bits of movies and pop culture filter in, in that gap - people separated by time, writing passed between the past and future? Ghosts trying desperately to communicate? Maybe Will is the one who's dead, in fact, which would possibly explain everything else going on to him lately?

Absolutely none of those possibilities are things he actually wants to confront and deal with in any way, of course, but--

And then he's distracted, because that's...a child's handwriting. With another smiley face. Something tender and concerned clenches in his chest.

Will doesn't have a pen. So, in true slasher-movie fashion, he's going to just carve his own words into the wallpaper, using the fork he finds in the corner after a moment's frantic search. ]

Mine's Will. [ No smiley face, sorry. :( ] Where are you?

[ascocarp]

[As trusting of supernatural bullshit as Ellie is-- it's not real, just impossible to register as a threat when the worst things in her life are so much more tangible-- she still knows better than to answer directly. She writes back, smiling to herself, and quietly scoffing.]

that's not creepy at ALL :P

you first

Radio

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar is so tired of not being able to be understood by anyone that he breathes a sigh of relief when he can understand the language coming out of the radio, even if he doesn't really understand how the sound is being transmitted or even where it's coming from.

He's got a walkie-talkie and has been experimenting with pressing the buttons, but he doesn't yet understand how to communicate back. He presses down on just about every button he can reach with five fingers and hopes the person on the other end can hear him.]

How-- [Then it cuts out again like he took his fingers off the buttons, coming back in on the last word.] --work? [Hopefully the other man can understand what he's trying to ask.]

[wontgraham]

[ Another voice. Will's been having more luck with this than expected, but each voice he hears over it is a huge relief regardless of frequency.

It's choppy, though. Will can't really begrudge someone not intuiting something as clunky as a radio with no directions printed on it. He's going to assume he understands what's being asked, however: ]

One of those buttons. Keep it pressed down while you're talking. You won't be able to listen to me while you're doing it, but you'll transmit your voice.

...I assume. [ So, by implication, this stranger should be able to tell which button is the right one, because it's going to temporarily shut off the white noise that contains other voices.

Assuming this other person's radio looks anything like the one Will's holding, anyway. ]

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar has no idea how the voices are being transmitted through the air, but hey, he's not about to question it too hard. He's just glad that there's someone out there who can understand his language. He hasn't any luck in that thus far.

He scans the device and figures it must be the biggest button that he should press down. As he does so, he says a silent prayer to any of his gods that are listening that this will actually work.]

I hope you can hear me now. I am damn tired of no one understanding me.

[wontgraham]

[ The voice comes through clearly this time, or at least as clear as the radios have been so far. This isn't the first person Will has been fortunate enough to get ahold of via the radio, which...

Huh. Which means Will pauses in surprise at what this man says. For two reasons. ]

...Everyone I've talked to has spoken English. Who have you... [ It's useless to ask who, though, since Will clearly hasn't met them, based on what he just said himself. If they speak something that isn't English, Will's yet to talk to them.

But that means this man, who didn't know how a radio worked a few seconds ago, has met people in person. That's good. That means there's more people here. Relief clenches in Will's chest so painfully, it almost feels like fear. ] But-- yeah, yes, I can hear you.

[ragnarsson]

I've tried speaking English to people, but they must not understand my accent or something.

[That was one way of putting it. Ivar was speaking Old English, and while it had some similarities to modern-day English, it sounded more like German then anything else. It doesn't really make sense, since Ivar seems to be speaking the language fine now aside from a light Northern European accent of indeterminate origin.]

Who am I talking to? My name is Ivar Ragnarsson. Some know me as Ivar the Boneless.

[The name that history books would record as being the name of one of the most famous and feared Viking kings that had ever ruled.]

[wontgraham]

Well, whatever brought us here, I’ve yet to figure out its…theme for choosing us. [ Will stares out at the landscape around him, for lack of anything else to center on while talking. He’s found an actual, portable radio since leaving his bus-but-not-a-bus, and this has let him mobilize further into the…whatever this place is.

The puzzle of the language issue is there, but the clanging desperation in Will’s mind for any sort of human contact is too loud to bother looking for possible solutions over.

…At least until that name, anyway. ] That’s— a hell of a title. [ Will sounds and feels somewhere between amused and curious. He doesn’t feel inclined to think this man is lying, at least, but that leaves him with a puzzle while Will has no idea what final shape he’s even working towards. ] I’m— Will. Will Graham. [ His last name feels useless in a world so separated from his own – who would recognize him here? – but the mirroring of title is reflexive.

So is digging deeper for answers, immediately after. ] Where…exactly are you from, Ivar?

[ …Sweden?

Guess who’s only taken one mandatory history class in college, and it definitely didn’t cover Vikings? This guy right here. ]

radio blah blah

[quietlypersistent]

[ Clarice is having a difficult time surmising how this all is happening. First, there was the static. The long, endless hall... Or it seemed so, until it let out into an abandoned old, corporate downtown building, probably a business.

How had the hall fit inside the building? Why was the building bending? Where were all the people? How was an entire city this desolate and in such disrepair?

She had a lot of questions, and tried to use that adrenaline to focus her mind. Remember her training. Remember anything Jack Crawford had taught her.

Clarice wasn't sure if she was relieved or more panicked when all she had encountered in the streets were shadows, rather than people. She hadn't been attacked, but she was grateful for the gun at her side. She had taken refuge behind a bus when she heard someone approaching.

She remained hidden until the man tried to use the radio. Didn't he know radio protocol? Why would a civilian know radio protocol. Was he a civilian? Was anything here even real?

She called out from around the bus, not showing her head yet, trying to preserve some uncertainty to her location in case he turned out to be hostile. She learned the hard way that the scariest monsters were other people. ] Hello? My name is Clarice Starling. I'm an agent with the FBI. Who's speaking?

[ She didn't have the luxury of trying to mask remnants of her accent when shouting. ]

i was into the books/movies way before will's show came out, ftr, so i'm THRILLED to see a clarice!

[wontgraham]

{ooc; and i'll leave it up to you if you want clarice to recognize will's name or not! will wouldn't recognize hers, of course, because timelines (and...technically copyright issues, but...)}


[ Will's expecting any answering voices to be from the radio - the same as they've been for the past otherwise-uneventful hour or two. It's hard to tell time, here, but categorizing it that way - the first day, the second day - helps Will focus on where he is.

But the answer, this time, comes from behind himself. And-- to the right. Outside the bus.

FBI. The irony - the low chance of it - is enough to stun him for a moment. His first thought after his shock is that he doesn't have his gun on him, not even an empty holster. In his wallet, though, is...

He's focused enough to answer. ] Will Graham. Also FBI, but less-- agent. Temporary agent.

[ He's turning in a loose, careful circle, very aware of what it could mean that this woman didn't just come up the bus' steps to say hello. The lack of trust is clear, and Will moves slowly, hands out at his sides. Visible. ] Usually a professor at the academy, when I can talk them down from sending me into the field.

:D !!!

[quietlypersistent]

{ooc; i take her from the book, where she does know about will. also, i'm mostly a fan of the sotl (book+film) and the show! the hannibal book/movie frustrates me, though i relied heavily on it when i used to play hannibal 3298 years ago.}

[ More wary of the darkness, shadows that defy reason and general unknown, Clarice was already starting to move around the bus both for repositioning and a better view before the man spoke again. When he did spoke, her heart jumped.

"You tell him no specifics about yourself. You don't want any of your personal facts in his head. You know what he did to Will Graham." Crawford had introduced her job break-through by reminding her of the consequences of Agents who broke rules. But then, she'd managed to break them without consequence, so far. Lecter had escaped, but he left her alone, so far.

Not that he was a concern at the moment at all. She wondered what Graham was doing here. Wasn't he supposed to be retired? She wondered what his face would look like after the Dragon, and felt a surge of shame.

She lowered her gun and gazed at him. He was young. And looked healthy. And was a temporary agent? She couldn't mask the quizzical expression. ] Your lectures were inspiring, though I never got to see one myself, we referenced them a lot at the academy. I was also temporary, until just recently.

[ Let it play out, Clarice. Don't startle him further. Stick to business, gather more information. ] Do you know anything about where we are?

that book/movie are not......incredibly high quality

[wontgraham]

[ Recognition was so common back home from other agents, professors, and lab consultants. Everyone at the FBI knew who Will Graham was. But here, several days (not that time matters here, with his watch stopped at 3:26am) into his stay somewhere artificial and impossible, this throws Will for a loop that feels foreign.

He doesn't flinch from the gun trained at him for a half-second before redirected elsewhere. He sees the regulation hold of it, finger off the trigger and all. He does look her over quickly — young, a bit younger than him, attentive and short and serious. Will sees normal fear, carefully turned back into a defense, in the set of her shoulders.

That's fair. She can probably see fear in his, too. ] Probably only as much as you do. I— walked into here a few days ago. [ Will looks away from her, nods at the scenery, at the gray expanse of clutter around them. ] Still wondering how it...chooses people.

[ What she says still doesn't quite add up, though. Will's expression shivers into a frown. ] You never— took one of my classes. [ He'd know that much even if she hadn't said so — he'd recognize her if she had. ] But you talked about them?

[ Will isn't exactly known for taking sabbaticals; the way this doesn't add up is surely obvious. ]