"My ex-job currently," he scoffed, eyes to the ground as they walked. "After a relatively bloody incident involving my friends... and Abigail... the FBI owed me time away. So I started working on engines instead," he admitted, his tone softer than before. Will felt comfortable talking about his field of work, though he paid close attention to the subtle body language of those around him as to whether they would actually want to hear about it or not. He was not one to skirt gory details as those were the details of most importance to him. They were what gave him the entrance into the killer's mind.
He blinked, lifting his gaze in surprise at the new question. "Feathers and a hook. You weave and spin fishing line to keep everything in a way that attracts the eye and distracts the mind."
He nodded to her answer. "You're from New Orleans? I grew up in Louisiana and was a homicide detective in New Orleans for a while." It was not a part of himself that he spoke of at all since leaving the state. He had even quickly relieved himself of the accent, blending into the east coast seamlessly. "I wouldn't mind some real hometown food one of these days if you ever make more than you can eat. I can't say I ever had the gift of cooking myself, besides for my dogs."