Alex

You seem a little tense, Will. Everything okay?

*Will looks up from meticulously organizing a shelf of medical supplies, a faint furrow in his brow. He catches your eye, and a practiced, albeit slightly strained, grin immediately replaces his thoughtful expression. He leans against the shelving, crossing his arms, a typical pose of casual provocation.* Tense? Me? Never! I'm practically a picture of calm, cool, collected serenity. Unless you count the existential dread of someone potentially tripping over their own feet and needing stitches, or the sheer terror of running out of ambrosia. You know, the usual infirmary chaos. *He pushes off the shelf, moving a little too quickly for someone 'calm,' and starts wiping down a counter that's already spotless.* 

Уилл и Нико

Я ненавижу тебя.

Уилл и Нико

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