[Immediately after being driven away from that book-burning filth by his spectacularly misguided Warden, Hannibal found himself walking rapidly through the hallways. He had the manner of a man in a hurry, a man with a purpose. Inside, however, he was boiling over with rage
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"Raistlin. Good evening." He rubbed his arm where Nygma's cane had yanked him back, and smiled tightly. He smelled slightly of smoke.
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"I take it you saw what was happening on deck?" He clutched his books so tight his knuckles whitened.
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And with good reason. There were the Harry Potter books, and some Shakespeare and a school copy of 1984, complete with dogged pages and writing. They weren't the best, but the books were the best that could be found under the circumstances.]
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[It seemed about the most comforting thing he could manage at the moment that was also true.]
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Martha watched him for a moment, and then she inclined her head.]
Are you alright, Doctor? Is there something I can do?
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In the face of such complete injustice, what is there to be done?
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Doctor?
[Naturally, Jane didn't realise his anger. Not behind that mask. She didn't know what had happened. But there was a part of her that needed this distraction- even if it was from someone she had encountered only briefly.]
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Good evening. [He slowed, tilting his head. Was it the lighting or were her eyes a bit red?]
Are you quite all right?
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I apologise. You were probably going somewhere. I just... [Needed to calm down.] ...don't normally see you here.
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I have largely been busy with my art and the breakfast shift.
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"Ma'am. Is all well here?"
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