The Hannibals are sitting in adjacent armchairs, sharing a glass of wine-- by passing it back and forth, of course. They're not so indecorous as to employ their usual method in public.
They look... relaxed.
It's amazing how much better the world looks from the other side of a kill.
Their unutterable stillness is broken by a nod, and then by the both of them standing. One of her recaptures the wineglass; the other turns to face Will. Both their hands remain quite conscientiously in sight at all times, and if they have weapons concealed about them (they do) no one's reaching for any.
"Wherever you wish."
They don't want to hurt him. And they do want to convince him they don't want to hurt him. Any reasonable measure that can be taken to make him feel safer, without compromising their ability to defend themselves-- they'll do it.
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Will freezes for a moment when he sees them, still as stone.
Then his hand drops to his gun and he strides towards them.
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"Will," greets a Hannibal, without so much as lifting her eyes from where their shared wineglass rests on their shared table.
"You can put away the gun," murmurs the other, perfectly aware of the statement's futility but compelled to make it nonetheless.
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His voice is quiet. "I'd like to talk to both of you. Someplace with some privacy, preferably."
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Their unutterable stillness is broken by a nod, and then by the both of them standing. One of her recaptures the wineglass; the other turns to face Will. Both their hands remain quite conscientiously in sight at all times, and if they have weapons concealed about them (they do) no one's reaching for any.
"Wherever you wish."
They don't want to hurt him. And they do want to convince him they don't want to hurt him. Any reasonable measure that can be taken to make him feel safer, without compromising their ability to defend themselves-- they'll do it.
Reply
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