RP: With Hannibal

[mrmoneypenny]

A Villiers, at a bar, cradling a cup of coffee.

He's been restless, these past three days. The coffee probably won't help.

But it's warm, and smells nice, and although Hannibal left, he'll be coming back.

Villiers knows.

Hannibal Lecter keeps his promises.

Sip.

Comments

[reactstonothing]

"Good evening."

Utterly without warning, about three inches from his ear.

[mrmoneypenny]

Villiers jumps a good couple of inches off his stool, somehow managing not to spill his coffee. Then, of course, a quick turn to see a very familiar face.

"Good evening," he says in return, only a little bit shaky.

...how is he so goddamn quiet?

[reactstonothing]

Some people are just naturally creepy?

Smirk.

Casually: "You missed me."

[mrmoneypenny]

A short, lightly embarrassed pause.

Because he's thirty-four and it's true.

Then, carefully: "I did."

[mrmoneypenny]

Time passes.

Enough time to get up. Get food. Shower.

Step out of the shower, still dripping slightly, towel around your waist, to stare at the mirror.

Clean, sharp lines, down your chest. Vivid. Not like last time, when you couldn't see. The ring of bruises around your neck like a collar. Dark flesh, like a shadow.

Sliced apart, again and again, and carefully put back together.

Why do you let him do this to you?

[reactstonothing]

Why don't you ask him?

He's right there, silent as a ghost.

[mrmoneypenny]

Refrain from jumping, because it's Hannibal. Can't expect any less.

Reach a hand up. Touch. Trace the ring of bruises, looking to Hannibal through the mirror.

"It's..."

Can't quite say it. Can't quite manage it. Beautiful. Because it is.

Fascinating.

The gentle fade of it.

[reactstonothing]

"I know."

He rests a hand on Villiers' shoulder, casually possessive, and smiles.