Will set the first aid kit down on the coffee table before sinking into the armchair. It was... shit, it was a lot to take in.
The Sheriff was out hunting again. No more fooling around, not after the trick they'd pulled. He wasn't trying to spook them any more. He had nine cells waiting to be filled and he was ready to move on them. And while they'd all been fretting about the parsonage, he'd gone and tracked Alan down. Damn near managed to get him alone. Probably would have done, if not for...
Will's gaze shifted to Melpomene, wondering. "You confronted him," he said, brow furrowed, an uncertain question in his voice.
He still had no idea what to make of the Muse of Tragedy. The first time they'd met, he'd found her strangely intense and unsettling, and her unaccountable interest in their Sheriff troubles had prickled at the hairs on the back of his neck. But she'd also come running to her sister's defence at a moment's notice. She'd practically been ready to gut Hermes for imposing himself on Clio after all he'd done to her. From the sound of things, she'd come close to gutting the Sheriff tonight. (Slicing open his face, holy fuck.)
She knew them so little. Why would she do that? Put herself in the firing line?