( im-not-here-to-judge. )
George watched with a wry smile as the other put down the glass. He could see a mixture of shock and fear on his face.
“How I know,” he echoed, the tiny wry smile turning downwards. “Is because I’m a psychiatrist working sex crimes. You hear one too many stories about people being drugged… and then you become borderline-paranoid on everyone’s behalf, not just yours.”
“A psychiatrist.” Will repeats with a small and sardonic sort of smile. He has nothing against this man, he’s mostly thankful for his intervenence, he’s just grown slightly bitter towards psychiatrists at this point. Particularly the ones working around him. “So you work with the police.” he voices out and furrows his eyebrows for a moment, eyeing the poisoned cup in front of him before turning to slightly look at the male. “What department?”
He can’t help but snort at the description even if this entire situation is all but laughable. He’s very aware he almost got victim of an attempt at sexual violence but he’s trying not to think too much over it. And this man’s job.. Well, seems very much like his job. “I can.. relate.”
