Will caught her drifting gaze this time, followed it to the pile of bricks stacked by the men's room. He contemplated it with a small frown. He remembered what she'd said, about locking the Sheriff away in a box somewhere. Tossing him food through a hole each day and leaving him to go mad in cramped isolation. Will had even given her his vote at the time, so sick to his guts with rage and grief, he'd been ready to jump on board with any plan that would end the cursed cycle of violence. He'd had a little more time to sit with it since then.
"Not saying it isn't tempting," he said slowly. "Shit, I'm not saying it isn't smart, cos god knows he ain't going to stop coming at us on his own. But, lass..." He turned back to face Marian and held her eye. "That really what you wanna be? A torturer? Cos that's what you're talking about, it's torture. And me..." He pressed his lips together, stared down at his hands. Thought of days that had blurred together in a delirious cycle of pain and the anticipation of more pain. "I've been tortured. Quite recently, as it turns out. And I... I dunno if I want to go down that road."