It had taken quite a bit of effort and sneakiness, but he'd managed it. Freddie Lounds would no longer be a problem, and Hannibal had the ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner with Will
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Will isn't certain what to expect, other than perfection. Dr. Lecter had a penchant for immaculate presentation, that much Will knew, but whether this would remain a purely social encounter as the good doctor had promised, or devolve into a ham-handed psychiatric session... well, only time could tell. He certainly hopes that Lecter will keep true to his word; Will was just beginning to put a tentative trust in the man, and he can't help but sense that they share some likeness of spirit. Whatever that means.
He flattens a hand down the front of his suit - nothing particularly fancy, but well cut nonetheless - as he climbs the few steps to his host's front door. When he reaches out to ring the doorbell, his skin prickles as several drops of moisture land on his hand. Right, it's supposed to rain tonight, isn't it?
And he waits, listening to the resounding buzz of the bell, and the quiet swelling impact of raindrops against cement, hands in pockets.
Hannibal glances up at the sound of rain against the roof, pattering gently and providing a sort of soothing backdrop to the evening. Well, Hannibal finds the rain soothing, at least.
Then the buzzer sounds and he strides towards the door, ushering Will in and tutting at the young man's raindamp appearance. "Are you soaked through?" he asks, brushing droplets of water off Will's shoulders and offering his pocket square so Will can wipe down his glasses.
"Just a bit damp," he accepts the pocket square with a muttered 'thanks' before slipping his spectacles off to clear away beads of moisture from the lenses. It's only when he replaces his glasses and extends Hannibal's handkerchief back to him that Will has a moment to take in the doctor's sharp appearance; he's wearing a new suit - or, at least, one that Will has yet to see, and, absurdly, it makes him wonders if the man ever looks anything less than regal.
His gaze lingers for perhaps a second longer than it ought--
"Whatever it is you've decided to surprise me with, it smells fantastic."
The pocket square is carefully folded and tucked back into its proper pocket. Will is dressed a little nicer than usual, which Hannibal rather appreciates; perhaps not surprisingly, Will does look good in a suit. Though he'd look better in a suit tailored to fit him, but that can wait for another time.
"There's a roast in the oven, and our appetizer is chilling. Please, make yourself at home. I'll join you in the study in just a moment." He touches Will's arm lightly, letting his fingers slide down to linger at his elbow for just a moment before he goes to fetch the tartar.
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He flattens a hand down the front of his suit - nothing particularly fancy, but well cut nonetheless - as he climbs the few steps to his host's front door. When he reaches out to ring the doorbell, his skin prickles as several drops of moisture land on his hand. Right, it's supposed to rain tonight, isn't it?
And he waits, listening to the resounding buzz of the bell, and the quiet swelling impact of raindrops against cement, hands in pockets.
Reply
Then the buzzer sounds and he strides towards the door, ushering Will in and tutting at the young man's raindamp appearance. "Are you soaked through?" he asks, brushing droplets of water off Will's shoulders and offering his pocket square so Will can wipe down his glasses.
Reply
His gaze lingers for perhaps a second longer than it ought--
"Whatever it is you've decided to surprise me with, it smells fantastic."
Reply
"There's a roast in the oven, and our appetizer is chilling. Please, make yourself at home. I'll join you in the study in just a moment." He touches Will's arm lightly, letting his fingers slide down to linger at his elbow for just a moment before he goes to fetch the tartar.
Reply
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