A bit of his muffin broke apart, and Will held it close to his mouth and was able to catch the fallen part before it dropped to the ground. He stared at Anneliese as he chewed, trying to look completely unfazed. Part of him was, because he knew he wasn't at fault. Will was very logical that way; he knew that he hadn't helped the fight and their tempers, but he definitely had not started any of this. In fact, they had their fight in writing (they should really not be allowed to communicate over those blasted journals), if she wanted to go back and retrace the supposed evidence proving his fault.
Finishing his muffin, Will tossed the wrapper into the trash and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, all the while staring directly at Anneliese. It was a strange feeling, not having seen your wife in days and suddenly looking at her. The image of her would be a lot more appealing were she not trying to murder him with her eyes, but he was still glad to see her in some recesses of his mind. Will loved Anneliese more than any other person in the world, he valued her above it all, but when she was being a pain in the ass, he had no problem letting her know it.
Will huffed, a bit out of frustration, and maybe slightly to mimic his wife, and crossed his arms over his chest in a tightly similar manner to Anneliese's. Two could definitely play this game.
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