Merlin briefly considers whether Will is hiding something from him. He's looking around the bar in a decidedly twitchy manner-- but then he always does that, since he was released. Drinking with a cop leads to awkward questions (at best), and Merlin doesn't know how deep in this shit Will is anymore.

Perhaps he doesn't really want to. Sometimes he feels like a circus act, juggling knives atop a tightrope, trying to find out enough about Morgana Le Fey to make sense of his partner's extracurricular dealings with the mafia, while simultaneously attempting not to alienate the last childhood friend he has left.

Merlin drains the last gulp of his own seven-and-seven. Whether Will's holding out on him or not, he's not going to lean on him any more tonight.