RP: With Hannibal

[mrmoneypenny]

Villiers is in his room, now

Comments

[reactstonothing]

There's another tiny noise at the door.

Quiet, so quiet.

It opens-- shuts-- quickly enough that it might just be a trick of his fevered imagination.

Or not.

[mrmoneypenny]

He turns, but doesn't otherwise move.

Villiers is just deathly quiet.

That's all.

[reactstonothing]

"Good evening," say the shadows.

He didn't bring that bag with him today.

Good or bad? Well, Villiers will find out shortly, won't he?

[mrmoneypenny]

Villiers actually seems to relax when he hears that voice. Silken and smooth, distinctly European.

He turns towards its source.

"Hannibal."

[mrmoneypenny]

Morning.

Villiers wakes suddenly. Still twitchy. Still...disconnect. Disconnected. Lost.

Hurry, then. Get up.

Belated reaction.

(quietly, elsewhere, he wishes for strawberry preserves)

Move, move fast. Wedge that chair under the door, like that. Invest in a chain latch. Sometime. Eventually.

Stare at the door. He gets in, every time. Bust the lock? No, impractical.

He always finds a way in.

Tea. He needs tea.

[reactstonothing]

Elsewhere, Hannibal sleeps.

Poorly as ever.

[mrmoneypenny]

Kitchen, then. Kettle, water, stove. Shaky hands grabbing Darjeeling and measuring it out. A strainer.

Fuck.

Strawberries. He needs strawb-

No. No. Those are tainted, now. Impure.

A battle of wills, him and a bottle of strawberry preserves.

Yes. Yes? No.

Whistle. Shaky hands, a shaky mug. Strainer, in.

Strawberries.

Food? No. Couldn't keep it down. Fuck.

Preserves. Just a little? No one would see. He likes them. The jam is sweet and fruity.

No one would see.

Open the jar, swipe a finger against the edge. Like a secret. Sickening.

But still. Sweet and almost copper. He shudders.

It sweetens the taste of tea.

[reactstonothing]

You can't stay asleep forever.

He wakes, fails to tremble, searches for distraction.

Thinks of Villiers.

Smiles, alone and motionless in the dark.