rhymeswithcannibal | Until we get a real season 4...

Until we get a real season 4...

[Continuing from thread here.]

The weather forecast for Bethany Beach, Maryland said there was a 30% chance of thunderstorms for the next two days, but currently all the weather seemed to be bringing was cloud cover just dense enough to turn the entire sky steel gray.

Hannibal had a spring in his step as he slid out of the passenger side of the rundown pickup truck they'd bought for cash and never transferred out of the original owner's name. They could leave this behind without worrying that it would ever ever track back to them. No breadcrumbs for Uncle Jack at this marina to have him looking at boats that had been docked for a minimum of three years and then recently left.

"It's the farthest slip from the parking lot," he said as he opened the tailgate and reached in to drag a heavy, wheeled cooler out and settle it on the gravel at his feet.

Five months after they'd died at the cliff house, Hannibal had put some effort into changing his appearance. His skin was tanned, his hair was longer and shaggier, his beard was full, but could never be full enough to hide his distinctive cheekbones, and he was wearing jeans, work boots, a heavy fisherman's sweater, and a bandage on his left hand that he ignored as he worked.

"The keys are in a combination lockbox hidden on deck. I engaged a service to come in quarterly to ensure that the boat was aired out and maintained to a functional standard. We shouldn't have to spend too much time getting our house in order before we can leave."

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Will is his partner in more than crime.

“Surprising in some ways.” Not in others. Hannibal was obviously intelligent beyond his peers, moved through the world and viewed it differently than his peers. It would be off putting to to his cohort, even leaving all the things he didnt know about Hannibal’s past aside. “Observed that it was easier to move through the world when you blended in?”

Will had hurt himself, too, the act eventually tangled with truth and hesitation. “Then I won’t say never. There are those in need of... culling.. in every walk of life.” It was a mater of time and target, this Will knew, before he killed.

Time would tell if Will was a suitable substitute for murder. At least part of the time.

"You're humoring me," Hannibal said, his chiding was delivered with warmth that turned it into gentle teasing. "It is far easier to move through the world if you are admired and respected, and human nature means that it isn't enough to be skilled at what you do if you want that admiration and respect." You could have one without the other, but the two together were potent camouflage.

"In the same vein, I would argue that those in the upper echelons of society are often in greater need of that culling because their wealth and connections shield them from consequences."

He would be entirely unsurprised to know this was a line of thought and yet still wholly unflattered and potentially disinclined to keeping company with Hannibal for a time.

"I'm not. It's as easy to picture a sociable young Hannibal as it is to picture you far beyond your peers in intelligence and observation in a way that isn't conducive to socially connecting." Will snorted and replied glibly, but without malice or bite, "Yes, I noticed that first hand the time you framed me for multiple murders and the reaction to my accusing you was a chorus of, 'Hannibal? A Serial killer? No. He's a respected psychiatrist and a close personal-' insert whatever connection they thought they had forged with you. It was a very formidable shield."

His mouth flattened slightly in thought, Will took another sip of wine and considered. "I don't disagree. Something to consider for another city after this one."

One of many lines of thought that would never be shared.

"As it was meant to be. As the connections I forge here will also serve as a shield." For himself. Less so for his taciturn assistant, but there was only so far Hannibal could stretch the umbrella of good will if Will wasn't willing to make some efforts of his own.

"Another city after this one." He chose to steer the conversation in that direction rather than allow Will to revive the memories of a time that hadn't painted either of them in the best of lights. "Where would you like to go after this? Setting aside concerns of pursuit, where would interest you?"

There was a pettiness that Will would never shed.

Will's efforts would not be made among those circles Hannibal traversed, it suited the roles, really. "The lack of evidence that a serial killer is in their midst won't hurt." Especially the lack of Hannibal's work publicly displayed.

He allowed the conversation to be steered, the memory was from another life. "I was considering letting you choose." He did not say this lightly and looked from his glass to Hannibal's face, "Anywhere you wanted, with the caveat that I could exercise the power of veto. But our negotiations for Alana's life aren't up for renewal yet."

As long as Will didn't antagonize the people Will was courting, all would be well. Aleksey, of course, would be chillier with the "common" folk because that was Aleksey's character. Perhaps it was best to have that balance between his and Will's circles of acquaintance.

Hannibal nodded to indicate his understanding of what Will was conceding, but if he was choosing where he wanted to go, right now he wanted to go farther into understanding Will's wants. "I had intended for us to decide together, but while I know my mind, I don't know where you might be interested in going next. Italy is at least four years away and we have the rest of the world at our feet until then."

Will’s associations would be born of those he met and fostered acquaintance with while dock fishing or fly fishing, though he preferred to engage in the latter alone, locations, baits, lures were both an interest and a means to engage with others. Needless to say, definately different social circles.

“Well, there is an island populated by.a thousand dogs, give or take. I’m sure it would be very remote with... rustic charms.” He was in no way serious, but kept up an earnest expression easily enough.

And both were useful. Hannibal could charm most people if he put his mind to it, but Aleksey wasn't the sort who would. Teamwork would allow them to spread their influence more broadly while still maintaining their false identities. What would John tell his acquaintances about Aleksey?

"I suspect we might stand out somewhat if the population is largely dogs," Hannibal said, matching Will's earnestness other than a little amused crinkle around his eyes. "Is there anywhere else on your list?"

He would paint a picture of an aloof Aleksey, somewhat cold and particular who was used to a more rigid class structure and could be dismissive of those not on his level. He'd thaw it somewhat with Aleksey's fairness and bits of humanity, like the dogs.

"The dogs wouldn't turn us in." But, he considered the question seriously. "There are places I would enjoy seeing without living in." The risk, the larger cities wth larger populations, a myriad of reasons.

While Aleksey would answer questions about John by noting that John was quiet, efficient, had many practical skills beyond yacht maintenance, and he was loyal, all good qualities in a personal assistant. Will was getting a promotion to PA because that was easier to explain than why aloof Aleksey would want his yacht hand to live with him.

"They wouldn't, but their caretakers would." It was lighthearted, but possibly true. "We could leave on a grand tour at any time. Visit those places that interest you and return here as a base of operations for a while."

He canted his head a little and let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "I am ever so much more manageable at sea."

If Hannibal were going to promote him to PA to bolster their cover story, then Hannibal could field any questions about why his personal assistant never seemed to do much in the way of personal assisting. He would have all the confidence that Hannibal would think of something quite convincing.

“You raise a valid concern,” Will replied with the faintest smile at one corner of his mouth. He exhaled, expression shifting more to the pensive, only a year had passed since Hannibal’s escape, since the cliff. Was it too soon to loosen the hold on caution and risk more travel? His gaze shifted from the rim of his wine glass to Hannibal’s face, “I would like to see Prague.” There were enough interesting countries bordering or close to the Czech Republic to entertain them, and if they kept west of Germany this trip, it would assuage some of Will’s interest in caution.

Will huffed a small laugh, a smile playing at his mouth as he looked down to his wine glass again, stem held between his fingers, “There’s a strong point in favor of travel.”

Hannibal would have no difficulties coming up with ways that John was a good PA. Some would be fabricated, some would be factual. Either way, there might be a few rumors about other ways John was a good personal assistant to Aleksey, but nothing that should be a problem.

His expression barely changed, but eyes flicked up from his plate, scanning Will's face intently at mention of Prague. "I would like to see you in Prague. There's much to see, much to do. I think neither of us would be at loose ends there."

He had no difficulty admitting to himself that he was charmed by even a hint of laughter from Will, coming as it did without rancor or bitterness. "It's a thought that has crossed your mind more than once since we left Maryland, though Prague would be more easily reached by air."

Rumor without even the balm of truth behind it. How’s fustrating. Will would have no qualms fetching up Hannibal’s dry cleaning or running errands. Authenticity. And a perfectly innocent reason to know where Hannibal plans to be during the day. A PA should always know that. Authenticity.

And he did want to travel with Hannibal, to see him set against cityscapes untainted by their past memories. To move together through the world in this new life of theirs. He was also considering something else, a measure of how slippery that slope was. “Spending out time in the simple and wholesome way of typical tourists?”

Will leaned back in his chair slightly, “Or navigate the Atlantic, dock in Germany and go down from there.” It wouldn’t be his first time navigating the Atlantic, at least.

The expectation of frustration's end fueled his patience. If Will intended to define "in his own time" as never, Hannibal's patience would eventually wane and he would look elsewhere to fulfill physical needs as those needs warranted, but eventually would take a very long time to come.

As for Will knowing where he planned to be, of course John, functioning as a PA should know that, and should also expect that Aleksey wasn't obliged to tell him when those plans changed.

"I like to leave a little bit of my vacations unplanned, in the event an exciting opportunity arises," Hannibal said, not putting up any kind of safety fence at the edge of that slope. He wanted to have the opportunity to add more cities and landscapes to his memory palace, giving the Will who wandered its halls places he could more easily visit, giving that Will more depth and vibrancy. If he was "stuck" with Will in his head, he'd treat him as a guest rather than an intruder.

He took time to enjoy the last bite of loin on his plate and set his knife and fork down. "We would be remiss if we didn't take some time to enjoy Germany as well."

In his own time was less "never" and more "working through the object of his desire being Hannibal" and all the complications relevant to control and Hannibal not having the entirety of it. That Hannibal was a man mattered far less than Hannibal being Hannibal.

Aleksey ought not set precedents that Hannibal might find irksome when applied to himself in different situations.

"If, in the spirit of vacation, some unplanned and exciting opportunity arises, the only principle that should apply is, don't get caught," Will said this with the briefest of eye contact that fell as his gaze shifted to the piece of loin on Will's own fork that promptly went into his mouth. It was an interesting thing, the sense of wanting to know what happens versus the small cold shock of adrenaline for having said the words and knowing that he was not just acknowledging something Hannibal was likely to do anyway, but approving of it in a sense.

"Then there's really no downside to taking the trip by yacht," And if the emphasis on the last word was dryly amused, well. Understandable.

Hannibal was well aware that entering into a physical relationship with the man who had committed repeated acts of malpractice on him, who had framed him for murder, who had killed their surrogate daughter after surgically not quite gutting him, and who had tried to eat his brain was going to come with more than its fair share of complications. He was patient. Will had earned that and more.

Hannibal didn't intend to give Will his minute by minute itinerary, but neither did he intend to leave Will wondering when it was unnecessary. There was a delicate balance to strike when domestic harmony was such a fragile thing, as the start of this meal had demonstrated.

Fragile, but beautiful, as Will once again proved to him that he was the only possible partner for Hannibal. The combination of Will's overt permission and his unhesitating consumption of the result of such permission was... Suffice to say that Hannibal's obsession with Will was unlikely to flag, and his patience was enjoying a sense of reward.

"I value our circumstances far too much to risk them with sloppy diversions. You have my word that any exciting opportunities will be enjoyed with the utmost discretion."

He rose, once again gathering his plate and circling the table to collect Will's, noting as he leaned close to Will, "I find opportunities for time with you to have few down sides."

Hannibal was the shining embodiment of why Will Graham did not trust psychiatrists.

Left off that list was also: engaging him unwittingly in acts of cannibalism, murdering Beverly, letting Mason Verger feed bits of himself to Will’s dogs, Chiyoh, force feeding him Abigail’s ear, sending the Red Dragon after Molly and Wally, and the toying he did with Will and Margot. Hannibal could play the celibat hand he had dealt himself those exploratory instances when Will was in the mood to have Hannibal.

Then he intended to leave Will wondering where Hannibal was when Hannibal deemed it necsssary?

“Sloppy diversions or showy diversions,” Will leveled a look at him. But, he did trust Hannibal would keep to his word about discretion.

As Hannibal leaned in towards Will while collecting his plate, Will turned his head and mirrored leaning in towards Hannibal, “I enjoy your company, too.” There was the faintest upturn at the corner of Will’s mouth before his gaze strayed down to Hannibal’s lips. Will sat back.

Never let it be said that Hannibal did anything by half measures.

He'd own to all of those save Chiyoh. Will brought Chiyoh on himself. Unless he meant her self-imposed role as a dead man's jailer. Again, that was her choice.

Wasn't that always the case?

"At this time showy would be sloppy," Hannibal said easily enough. That agreement had been reached early on and he had yet to see a reason to violate that agreement.

The admission brought more warmth to his expression before he was gone, into the kitchen to add their plates to the dishwasher. He returned with two plates and repeated the ritual of laying one before Will before setting his own down and seating himself again. "Coconut, raspberry, and hazelnut creams," he said, indicating the three small porcelain egg cups on his plate. "And crémeux chocolate biscuits," indicating the delicate ovals of biscuits made with a traditional crémeux to give a unique rich, creamy texture to the cookies.

That is a cautionary take and a ringing endorsement.

And yet Will was still going to blame Hannibal for Chiyoh. Which, in the grand scheme of all the other things that Hannibal has done, isn’t the piece of baggage tipping their scales into that strange celibacy.

Will inclined his head, “Just so we are both working from the same definition of discretion.” He rarely admitted it, but Will owned to himself that Hannibal was reasonable and discrete when he wanted to be, when it suited him.

If part of the dish were human, he would be blissfully unawares, there was something almost sacreligioos about putting people into a dessert.

Will raised his spoon and sectioned off a bit of cookie, then dipped it in the hazelnut cream and brought it to his mouth. His slightly questioning expressiono melted into a pleased look at the rich flavor on his tongue. He might have made a sound, he wasn’t paying much attention.

It had suited him for years to be both reasonable and discreet. The Chesapeake Ripper might have been quiet for years between sounders of three, but Hannibal hadn't stopped killing during those so-called dormant periods; he'd just stopped staging the bodies.

Will could reasonably expect that each course had some bit of the dead man downstairs, but there was no need for Hannibal to elaborate on the details of dessert. What Will didn't know - at least in this instance - wouldn't hurt him.

Will might not have been paying attention, but Hannibal had watched him as he always watched, for at least that first bite. That small sound was tribute enough to the dish and brought a smile to his lips before he dipped his spoon into one of the cups and then scooped up a morsel of cookie. Will would actually be his preferred dessert, but that strange celibacy still reigned. "There are times when superb baking seems more akin to a kind of alchemy than mere chemistry. Most other forms of cooking retain some semblance of the original identity of what is prepared, but baking takes those disparate ingredients and serves up something altogether unlike its component parts."

Did he render the fat and use it? There was a knee jerk repugnance to the thought of human byproducts in something sweet. In rational terms and viewed from the lense of someone not eating Hannibal’s cream, there was no difference between eating human loin and a dessert with human in it. With the biscuit melting on his tongue in the contrast to the cream, the distinction held much more merit.

Hannibal was well situated, currently, for at least a hint of Wil’s dessert that evening. The slow intimacy of their shared meal and Will’s genuine enjoyment of Hannibal’s company had sparked in him the unmistakeable and persistent want to press his hands to Hannibal’s bare skin, to press his mouth to Hannibal’s warm mouth and see what he tasted like with a hint of chocolate and cream.

“Baking as a transformative experience to the ingredients?” He would agree that Hannibal spun flavor gold from those component parts.

No, just a bit of blood in the chocolate cookies, lost in that alchemy of which he'd spoken. It was enough for Hannibal to know it was there, rather than for this bit of human component to be as obvious as the meat in their first three courses.

Certainly Hannibal would be pleased with whatever overtures Will chose to make after a meal of willingly consumed human flesh. Granted, he'd be pleased with Will's overtures in almost any other circumstance, but there would be a special savor to kisses and touches on such a notable occasion.

"Yes. Not all cooks can bake, and not all bakers can cook. They are different disciplines. One may eat meat in any number of ways, but we will always know that it is meat. Where in that biscuit is the wheat or the sugarcane? You cannot separate one from the other, cannot sift one ingredient out of the other."

A bit of blood in the chocolate would be acceptable and far more tame than any of the things Will's mind would conjure if he thought on it too long.

One might always know when one is eating meat but one might not know the provenance of said meat. Though the general public might be more inclined to question what their meat really is after Hannibal's crimes were brought to light.

"The end product is taken as a whole, any individual ingredient that is disliked cannot be picked out and set to the side of the plate," He ate another bite of biscuit and cream. "If it can even be identified in the flavor of the end product." He might be inclined to playfully refer to Hannibal's baking as performing acts of kitchen alchemy now.

More complicated uses also required more time than Hannibal had at his disposal for this special occasion. He'd count himself fortunate to have had the opportunity for a murder and butchering before Will got home from seeing the yacht set to rights.

"Would you demand the removal of an ingredient you can no longer distinguish from the rest of the dish solely because you know that it's there?" While the obvious conclusion might be that he was referring to the human ingredient, that would just as obviously be an erroneous conclusion, giving Will's unflinching participation in the meal so far. Hannibal was curious whether Will had any preconceived notions about any particular ingredient that were so strong that his prejudice would win out over his palate.

"There are ingredients I am not fond of, though not to the extent of demanding their removal in a dish that changes or enhances their flavor to something more palatable." Will was less inclined towards being particular about food, as evidenced by his eventual acceptance of eating human flesh.

Hannibal might also take a hard no on any particular ingredient or food as a challenge given his past history of putting things in dishes that those unsuspecting guests might have found objectionable were the ingredients disclosed.

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