#(( SORRY THIS TOOK CENTURIES. I'm generally slow rn cuz of uni ;-; ))

[bullsh1tterz]

"Gross. Ew." Stuck in here with - who he now assumes to be - a. blue shirt. The waking nightmare truly does continue. He looks the guy up and down, searching in his demeanor for a cruelty he's experienced in so-called 'defenders of justice', but doesn't see much of it. "I'm gonna ignore that. Coz I didn' ask. Y'gonna shake y'rself down now or what?" Body steps forward and only then does he realize his own predicament... no chain this time, no, but rather an object stuffed into his pocket. Frantically, he lets his hand duck in and pulls a jagged knife out. From the angle of his palm against its surface, he can tell it's blunt. But as jigsaw's games go - it shouldn't stay that way for long, he doesn't think. It's meant for someone or something and damned he'll be if he doesn't find out.

"I don' got a tape on me..." he voices, looking around and making his way across to the other. "Which means the game's over more than one room." one of the ones he's read about in the papers, Adam's sure. Of course Jigsaw wouldn't allow him a mere second chance at his own claustrophobic game. It had to be new. It had to challenge him. And he groans at the revelation, looking up for any sign of surveillance and throwing two middle fingers up in a jolt, form spinning just a notch to address as many angles as possible.

"Guess I'm puzzle daddy's favorite little toy, ey!?" he shouts, wincing in his misery and burying heaps of it under aggression. "Fuckin' Bastard." the hands go down, but then one goes up again for a mere second. "Can't deal withyer issues by gettin' an addiction like the rest 'f us so y'r punishin' us for it. Motherfucker. Lunatic. Get fucked." Frankly, the way his resolve is veering now - he'll simply get the other out. He's not playing yet another sick game. He's not watching someone saw their foot off again. He's done. If jigsaw wants him, great, he'll have him; but not on his terms. On Adam's terms and no one else's.

So, the matter at hand remains. The contraption over the other's head which he's going about investigating without a single touch lest it set off a mess.

　There’s really no telling how bad his luck is. It’s not bad luck, not really —— a series of circumstances that has Will Graham drawn in and ensnarled by unbecoming psychopaths. He should just ease away from the business altogether and settle into a quiet retirement, aloof and just as alone as before. But it’s never that easy and his mind just as suspended on webbed curiosities.

He knows enough about Jigsaw despite the puzzle not fully being present there for Will. An angry man seeking punishment and validation in places that had been failed. Will doesn’t understand his purpose here but perhaps shortly he would. And this man with him? Fidgety, flighty and likely to snap on him if goaded. But Will is not a dog without bite either. Just far too calculated.

There was supposed to be some kind of test or something akin to a game. They have an opportunity for escape, no? Would they both be able to survive or would they have to turn on one another? Will’s brown eyes flicker and he’s searching for any clue or tape to give them further instructions. Because he realizes then, they’re not allies just yet.

“I’m a cop.“ not really, special investigator with dubious mental health history making him unable and unqualified for the force. Not quite FBI but adjacent, “I was assigned to the cases–“ Newly recruited for his particular knack of figuring out minds. He hadn’t even been in the city for a day. “I was with my coworker when I was taken.” Bev, in a parking garage. He hopes she was okay.