cook_the_rude | (no subject)

(no subject)

"Going my way?"

Hannibal had turned the car around, opened the door and dropped the body of their police escort as he'd never drop that much litter. He still wore his grey uniform from the State Hospital, but his smile was utterly free.

The car smelled of gunshots and blood, but it would do.

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"An insult to goldfish?" Will asks, chuckling too.

"Definitely," Hannibal says. "Goldfish are related to koi, after all, and koi are very personable and interactive fish -- not just decoration, proper pets. We should get some. Dogs don't fish, after all, unlike cats and Will Grahams."

"I've never fished for koi." Which is to say he's never had a reason to study their habits and behaviours.

Will turns to study Hannibal's profile. "Already planning our future." Not phrased as a question.

"Looking for new antlers to shape plans after," Hannibal amends, "after the eye of the needle that we must go through."

Pause.

"We may as well end up measured and found too thick."

"Always planning." It's not an insult. Will's own agency had grown since he started to think that way more than just reacting to stimuli. But he still feels like he can't think past the Dragon. Can't see the person he'll be on the other side of that fire.

"No firm plans, just a messy tangle of what-ifs," Hannibal says. "You do speak Spanish, don't you? Good."

"Functionally." it's almost a question. Almost wanting to hear about Hannibal's what-its. "Can't discuss the finer points of art but I can ask directions and make conversation." If he has to. He'd rather not but that's less to do with language and more to do with social transactions.

"That might be something to build on," Hannibal nods. "You are adaptable. After all, you sailed the Atlantic all by yourself and then found your way around Europe until you came to me in Palermo, then Florence."

"There were parts where I was thrown from a train." He points out.

"As far as I know," Hannibal chuckles, "that wasn't owed to your inability to make your own way around Europe, but rather to Chiyoh's slightly overprotective nature."

"And now I'm here. Going... where, exactly?"

"To the place where we meet the Dragon," Hannibal says. "My cliff house. Taking the advantage of picking the field of battle. I'll show you the salient points when we get there."

Edited 2018-12-30 10:07 (UTC)

Will nods and closes his eyes again. The motion of the car starts to lull him to sleep. One hand falls open on the console between them, palm up.

Hannibal turns on the radio, an utterly mundane gesture; but because he is Hannibal, the slightest twist of the dials brings on a Brandenburg Concerto, calm and quiet.

The common preferences of the cops who used to inhabit this car mean that the sound favours the bass; with Bach, it means that the basso continuo will come to the foreground, increasing the soporific effect of the car's gentle motions.

Will sleeps easily for the rest of the journey, only waking as the cat turns into a gravel driveway. "I smell the ocean." he comments without opening his eyes.

The car stops.

Hannibal reaches out to briefly touch Will's still-open palm as the motor cuts out, and the radio falls silent.

"We're here," Hannibal says. "At the cliff above the sea; I'll show you."

Edited 2018-12-30 10:33 (UTC)

For a moment Will's fingers close around Hannibal's, transferring the smear of dried blood. But then he lets go and rubs his cheek, opening the door and stretching and he gets out.

It's nice. He could like it here. If they hadn't come here to die.

Hannibal stands, and stretches to the sky, and breathes in deeply.

"Home away from home," he says. "Jack's lot never found it."

"How many didn't Jack find?" Will asks, slightly amused. He heads for the edge, stepping past a ring of larger stones.

"Enough," Hannibal says. "He missed a few of my places, and most of my stashes. I let him have those that were burned anyway, or not that useful."

"And now me." It's said softly, mostly to himself. Jack missed many things. Including how far from being his man Will had become.

"He thought you his useful tool," Hannibal says, starting to walk around the house. "He thought he could dump you into a peaceful life and pick you up whenever he wanted to. I do have to blame him for not realising you'd break. He lost his former edge since Bella's death."

Will doesn't follow. He stays where he can see the ocean. Where he can hear the regular beat of the waves.

"It wasn't Bella. It was you. And me."

"Because he fell for my traps, and underestimated you?" Hannibal says. "Ah, but do you think he would have if Bella had still been with him? She saw through me much sooner."

"We weakened his sense of infallibility. At a time he couldn't control life and death, he thought he could control other things. Us."