[There's a bitter smile back at the Sheriff because, you know, fuck you. Of course he was hung up about it. Of course he wanted something familiar, something to feel brave, something he can control. He's found too much to be out of his control this week. He wishes for nothing but to regain it.

He's missed it, truthfully. Riptide remains the only sword that's properly balanced in his hand, the leather grip worn and familiar in his palm, the blade itself glowing a little but not nearly as much as celestial bronze should. He weighs the weapon to get use to it, six weeks of its absence fading and it's a feeling like coming home.]

It's by my own hands, Hal. Still following the rules.

[With that he takes his sword and he approaches Will, standing in front of the man with a curiously thoughtful expression. He won't remove the blindfold, but he seems to assess him properly now. It seems it's just between the two of them now.]

I once told you that suffocating was one of the scariest things, Mr. Graham. Do you believe you deserve to have the noose loosened at all?

[It's funny, actually, calling him Mr. Graham, after all this time.

"I think I can ask you the same thing, Mr. Graham."
"Will, actually. Mr. Graham is what my students call me, and I'm not really looking to teach anything here."

He idly wonders if Will's aware of what he's taught Percy in their time together. He idly wonders just when he learned how to play the game, too.]