[ week one ➝ hannibal ]

[sweats]

[ Tuesday morning finds Will in the kitchen, assuming Hannibal to be somewhere around here. He feels like he should be carrying more concern with him as he goes along but he's not. He feels lighter than he should be, having grown used to the strange people he might bump into at any second, even the woman he seems to be sharing a room yet (though he doesn't quite sleep in their room, taking light naps before sneaking off and loading up on caffeine. This isn't a sustainable option but it's the one he's using right now). He's also not making much of a point to befriend anyone here and he still isn't entirely convinced that this is -- that this is reality. It can't be, can it? If it is, he'll deal with it as he has to but right now, he sticks to his one vaguely anchoring point -- which is Hannibal.

Perhaps he's in a coma, he thinks. That would make quite a lot of sense.

When he spots him, he can't help the involuntary smile he gives before schooling it in something more subdued and he moves forward to pour himself some coffee, coming closer to where Hannibal prepares them breakfast. Them, of course. Since there's been an unspoken agreement to share meals together. He wonders if that's part of the fantasy too -- and what does that say about Will in turn? ]

Hey. You mentioned me to a teenager.

Comments

[sweats]

[ In spite of himself, Will finds himself considering how to make cheeseburgers Hannibal's way too. He even suggests, without hesitation -- ]

You could make the buns yourself. I'm sure there's plenty ingredients for that. Percy doesn't look like a kid who has had a cheeseburger where everything's been done from scratch so he might enjoy it. Make the bread, ground up the meat, make your own... sauce? [ He stops himself suddenly, looking surprised at the words that spilled from his mouth. ] This is a terribly surreal conversation, you know.

[ He gives a shake of his head after, sipping his coffee with a slight crease to his forehead and after a moment, a noisy exhalation of breath as he tries to get back on the sure footing he was on. He sets the coffee down a moment later, hands braced on the edge of the counter and fingers tapping against the wood. He only looks back at Hannibal when he mentions the role and the bemusement turns into slight surprise.

Of course then, a moment later it clicks together and Will gives a derisive snort. If he was able to read the Sheriff, he figures, he could have predicted that.

He looks at Hannibal then and lifts a hand to brush an out of place hair from Hannibal's forehead, fingers ghosting gently over the skin and a soft hum of thought escaping him. ]

Do you get a very nice hat?

[sating]

[ Will isn't the only one that's surprised, since Hannibal looks up from his cooking to watch Will as he offers his suggestions. The more he talks, the more Hannibal's smile tilts up, but the fondness is unmistakable. Even before Will truly saw who he was, he never really indulged in Hannibal's hobby. At best, he would quietly tolerate it and eat what Hannibal offered. The fact that Will is participating more than simply observing—

Well, that was a fitting continuation of how things had been going, he thinks. It occurs to him suddenly that it's been far longer than he had been thinking. Will's presence feels so comfortable and familiar to him that he hadn't questioned it. But before they arrived in this strange town, it had been years since they shared a kitchen. His smile quirks finally into a smirk, and he nods his head in agreement, though it may be more of a ducking of it. ]

It is. But all excellent suggestions.

[ Which is honest. They're all ways to turn a simple meal into more of the kind of affair that Hannibal enjoys, so he's likely to take Will's suggestions when he does make that meal for Percy and Annabeth. He continues along with their meal, though the smirk stays when he snorts. That's about what he thought.

Though he hadn't anticipated Will reaching out to him. Again, he pauses, though his attention doesn't turn away completely. He doesn't want the food to burn, but his gaze does flicker up to meet Will's. ]

No. [ He says that word softly, and that tenderness is more a response to Will's. It's gone as he continues, though. ] Which I'm glad for, as none of the attire suits me. Though I have been given the choice of the black or white hat, in a manner of speaking.

[sweats]

[ See the problem here is that Will still has his own demons to face. Things aren't suddenly okay for him, no, but he's here and circumstances are so different and -- and in such a way that he can't go back from this. So, he's trying very hard to be... different. Be okay. Stop holding himself back. There are things he wants from Hannibal that he can quite ask for yet, there are impulses he has that aren't the same as he once felt.

(In the back of his mind, he thinks if Chiyoh. There are other means of influence than violence. She was always right about that.)

It causes Will to speak freely and reach out more than he ever would. Hannibal still hasn't quite touched him back and Will finds himself both relieved and disappointed over that fact. He's not sure what he'd do it he'd did -- he's not sure if he wants him to either. He should probably ask Hannibal where they stand, honestly, because this... this isn't friendship anymore, is it? ]

I suppose your choice in hat would rely in the sanctuary provided in it. Is it safer to be the Loyal Deputy rather than the Man in Black? You'd be dreadfully bored with the first though. Not with everything else going on too.

[ He still has the urge to touch more though -- honestly has the urge to hold him again, like on the cliff. He hasn't yet since they woke on the train and it feels like an unfinished grip. Will hates the intimacy he's craving, having been fine with so little of it in the past. So, instead, he picks up his coffee again. ]

[sating]

[ His smile twists into wryness, and as Will pulls back to nurse his coffee, Hannibal returns to preparing breakfast. Not that there's much left to do, but even with something simple, Hannibal is as meticulous as he would be with an elaborate feast. ]

The unfortunate side-effect of safety is that it's inherently boring. I'd rather dance with risk. Maybe even on a cliff.

[ luv ya babe ]

That, and besides choosing which hat I'd like to take up, a secondary duty is corpse disposal. It's surprising, considering the graves, but it seems their purpose is akin to the danse macabre. [ Or, you know, maybe they will be buried in their graves after, but Hannibal is also thinking of how that might be easier said than done in some cases. You asked for this, Sheriff. ] Which, on that note, I'm already planning for my breakfasts to be heartier. If you'd rather not partake, I can make yours vegetarian.

[ Even in so few words, there are plenty of assumptions there at least to Hannibal on where they stand. He's not concerned with (mostly) straightforwardly admitting when he'll be taking his favorite kinds of meals, since he knows Will won't reveal that to anyone else. But he's also giving him the choice on whether to join Hannibal in his hedonism and to keep anyone else away from joining them for breakfast. And of course, there's the simple assumption that Will will always be here for them, but that's the one that Hannibal takes as a given. ]

[sweats]

[ There's a very obvious wryness to Will's face then that's basically the non-verbal equivalent of you asshole. He doesn't want to acknowledge the cliff comment otherwise though so instead he listens to the rest of what Hannibal says, focusing on his coffee as he goes. ]

Huh. There really is an undercurrent of theatre here, isn't there? I'm not surprised the Sheriff would pick you. You've always had a certain... flare. I just hope everyone else can appreciate it as I did. [ well. ] As I do.

[ Which is kind of a compliment, isn't it? Oh well, Will doesn't really mind the fact he gave him one. Instead he ruminates slightly on the offer. It's not as if he ever stopped eating what Hannibal's provided and it's also not as if he expected not to eat with him again if they survived the cliff but hilariously enough, he finds his mind wandering to the practical. It's been a long time since either of them have tasted it -- aside from Frederick's lip in Hannibal's case. He hopes it doesn't make them sick. ]

No. I'd rather eat the same as you, that's fine. I am worried about the freshness of the meat. We won't get sick, will we? The last time I ate with you was in Baltimore.

[ That's so long ago that the memory feels more like a distant fever dream. ]

[sating]

Or something more. But the "something more" is also quite ridiculous, so I'll be sticking to the idea of theatre over that.

[ He's not really one to do anything like saving the universe, even in jest. Hannibal doesn't plan to be contrary because of the idea alone, but it certainly doesn't fit with the certain way he has about himself. The way he thinks about himself. But at least he can enjoy the irony that some measure of preventing the universe from collapsing in on itself rests on his shoulders. Objectively, he wonders if that's a poor choice or a very good one. He finds it difficult to decide.

He smiles again, not only at the thought of that, but with the compliments and the complicity that Will gives him. He bows his head to the compliment lightly in thanks like a humble artist, but he finds himself more drawn to the prospect of them sharing a meal. Unsurprisingly, really. In a way, it's what drew them together. ]

No. I'll be cautious with what I choose. It'll likely never be the victim. That would be too old. So there may instead be an ironic bit of justice in the fact that I'm more likely to take from the "guilty" party.

[ He says guilty with a bit of doubt in his voice, because he certainly doesn't have much confidence that the people here would be able to track down killers without fault. It's not easy, and even Hannibal himself would likely to pick incorrectly at times. The only person that never would... Well, that would be Will. And Hannibal sincerely hopes he's never pushed into using his empathy for that purpose. Not in this case. It's far more interesting to see how things will play out without the guidance or trained eye that both of them have.

Though that's not what Hannibal really thinks on. Their thoughts align here, because he breathes out a gentle laugh, then adds: ]

Baltimore— That feels like almost a lifetime away now.

[sweats]

[ That's enough to make Will's eyebrows shoot upwards immediately but he thinks it best he not question Hannibal on that one. Though, if Will were to ever hear the real reason for this game and the actions in it, he'd probably be around the same state Hannibal is in right now. Ridiculous, but suppose it had to exist somewhere.

He also finds himself relieved when Hannibal assures him the meat will always be fresh. He doesn't understand why that was such a point of worry for him but it is. It was.

Aside from that, he looks over to Hannibal at the dubiousness in Hannibal's voice. He supposes there is a reason to doubt there, but Will knows he doesn't have to match it. He's not yet prepared, exactly, for trials and what will come with them. Not in relation to himself but he's... bracing, for lack of a better word.

The topic turns to Baltimore and Will can't help the small smile that comes at Hannibal's words. ]

I don't think I'd be able to recognize the Will Graham from back then anymore. I'm not sure if he even exists.

[sating]

[ Breakfast is finished to Hannibal's satisfaction, so he goes to fetch a pair of plates to begin the just as meticulous process of plating the food. Considering the meal is simple and nothing glamorous, Hannibal could certainly just prepare it like a normal person, but... He won't. Of course. Even for something simple, he feels the need to give it the same amount of attention as if it were a finer meal.

It might seem like that concentration is what leads to his brief silence, but really, he's considering his words. He knows what he wants to say, but the difficult comes in framing it. It would be easy to tip to something that Hannibal doesn't intend depending on how Will takes it. ]

I don't believe he does, no.

[ He confirms that part quietly, and it's gentle in the way that Hannibal's bluntness could be with Will. It wasn't always, since sometimes his comments were more barbed, but in this case, he says it with care. After all, he leaves out the part that he's uncertain of.

That Will Graham died with Abigail Hobbs.

His focus stays on the plates until they're set to his satisfaction, and he then picks up both to head towards somewhere for them to dine. Will probably wouldn't mind eating where he's standing, but Hannibal does, naturally. A plate is set down for both of them, but as Hannibal sits down, he speaks again. Not of the past, though he's briefly inclined to, but of part of the future that Hannibal is concerned about too. ]

I imagine the trials will be difficult for you. Have you thought about how to prepare for them, if at all?

[sweats]

[ Will wishes for a moment that he had the capacity any longer to mourn the old Will, but he doesn't. He finds himself drawing up empty and feeling nothing but a small bittersweetness at the memory of old. He ends up nodding dimly, lifting his coffee to take a sip as Hannibal plates their food and murmuring quietly -- ]

Will Graham is dead. Long live Will Graham.

[ And there's nothing in him to realize what those words might mean to Hannibal. Instead, it's the end of the topic for now and Will follows Hannibal obediently towards the dining room, feeling his stomach finally feel hunger in the process. He's happy now, to eat with Hannibal and take their meals together in quiet companionship. It feels nice. Deserved, even. ]

-- Ah, mostly keep to myself. I'd rather not look if I can help it, even if it might assist them. It's not... it's not really worth it, is it?

[ That question is even laced with a hinge of insecurity, tone so very close to their old dynamic. Will asking for advice, pleading with Hannibal to provide him some sort of stability while his life crumbled to pieces around him. He doesn't ask things like that anymore -- wouldn't even if he wanted to, but unconsciously he finds himself asking and wondering if neutrality is the right decision. If Hannibal thinks it's the right decision. ]

[sating]

[ Hannibal sets the plate down for each of them, and it's as he takes a seat that he gives his answer casually in how quickly it comes, but his tone is a bit firmer. ]

No. It's not.

[ It's clear that there's more elaboration there, but it has to come after a pause. It's for no reason other than the fact that Hannibal is also hungry, though. After a bite and a rather satisfied sense of soothing his hunger, he looks up to Will. ]

Even if you help, it wouldn't stop this. It would be a wasted effort.