Will Graham as an idea, an enigma. He thought of himself as an abstraction, but there was no real him. Only something illusory, a fable that can be interacted with. Though he could hide his cold gaze and you could shake his hand and feel his soft flesh gliding against yours and you could probably sense that your lifestyles are similar, he is simply not there.

Will woke up at 5 A.M. sharp, getting ready to start his fruitful day. He had finally convinced the receptionist at the FBI Headquarters he worked at to indulge on a date with him. It was good for him, he had entertainment for the night. But unfortunate for you, you had to spend your night with a sociopath.

Will walks through the FBI Headquarters with headphones over his ears to block on the incessant conversations around him. He makes his way to your desk, vividly remembering the route. “Are we still on for tonight?”