youwill | 🍴 ( 003 ) Video

Entry tags:

🍴 ( 003 ) Video

[When the video clicks on, Hannibal is sitting at his desk, in his office. His expression is that of slight regret, almost-sorrow. He's never over the top. Ironically, he is somewhat sad about this.]

It appears that Alice Morgan has vanished from the ship as well. I am sorry to be the one to announce it. [Which is really just a dig at Bond for not saying it himself ~~fml~~]

[Private to Abigail]

[He doesn't flip a switch for her, because it is a legitimate regret - but he pushes it aside with ease. And does not smirk.]

Have dinner with me tonight.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She regrets it, too. Alice was interesting. But she pushes it away almost as easily. This is more important.]

What are we having?

What would you like? [He is always available for egg-in-a-basket.]

Comfort food.

[She's curious to see how he'll interpret this, frankly.]

I will be at your cabin at seven.

[And she will be waiting, her cabin (a perfect replica of her room at her father's house) perfectly tidy, with the desk cleared for his use.]

[And he comes prepared, a still piping hot, covered dish held on two plates, with utensils. He holds it all balanced easily in one hand - he'd have been a fabulous waiter - and knocks on her door.]

[When she opens the door, she's wearing the same face she did when he first appeared, but less panicked, brighter. She's pleased to see him, stands on her toes to peer at the covered dish, although she does back away to let him in.]

What'd you make me?

[She's gotten very good at this, and he's pleased to see it. When she gives him leave, he steps inside, goes straight to her desk to set everthing down, gesturing for her to follow. When he uncovers the dish, steam wafts up. Inside is homemade macaroni and cheese, the topped browned and crisped with breadcrumbs. The smell is tantalizing and people-free.

He smiles at her.]

Comfort food.

[It's - sweet. She forgets, sometimes, that he can be like this; that before she knew what he was, she trusted him wholeheartedly, would and did put her life in his hands. He knows, she's sure, that's she's forgotten - is using that against her.]

[It works. Her expression softens, and she smiles right back.]

. . . Thank you. It smells good.

[She just needs a reminder, and he can see it - the softening of her face, the smile that's realer than most of the ones she's given him. It pleases him, really - he did kill her gently, after all, let her go into shock so she would not feel a thing.

If he didn't care for her, he'd have mutilated her body. He feels more than an obligation to her.

Picking the top plate up, he spoons out a portion, and it's difficult to make mac and cheese - even homemade mac and cheese - look well plated, but he manages it before he hands it to her.]

You are very welcome. I think you'll enjoy it. [He serves himself, but, as always, waits for her to eat first.] If you do, perhaps it could become a staple in the dining hall.

[It's beautiful. Just like everything he does, even murder. She lays a napkin on her lap and digs in, with impeccable table manners.]

It's good.

[She glances at him.]

I don't think I'm worried about you working in the kitchens anymore. [It's mostly true.]

[He finds a seat, and wishes they had a proper dining room table to sit at. But must needs. He nods at her determination, finally taking a bite himself. Her confession has him curious; he cocks his head.]

Has Ben quelled your concerns?

[A small, humorless smile. She crosses her legs, shakes her head.]

No, Hannibal. I've just acknowledged that something will happen at some point, and I've prepared myself with that knowledge.

[He wishes he had a glass of wine, but instead he contents himself with inhaling the scent of the meal he's prepared, taking apart each smell, following it down to its components. He smells her, too.]

Something always happens, Abigail. The best we can hope for is preparation.

[He cocks his head.] How do you intend to prepare? For something.

[She doesn't like being looked at like that, being examined down to her component molecules. It was soothing once, it felt like she was being loved. Now she knows better, at least some of the time. Bitterness ebbs and flows in her like quickfire tides.]

[She deliberately readjusts a book at her side so it's just a hair from parallel with the edge of the desk.]

By assuming that nothing I'm eating is anything but a euphemism, and there's always a trap underfoot.

[And by building a fortress around herself. Someday she'll be invulnerable.]

[His eye twitches toward the movement, vaguely annoyed by the effort. He knows she does it for that effect, though, so he resists.]

Good. [He smiles at her, lays down praise she knows she wants even if she will not admit it to herself.] One day, the traps will be yours.

[And he picks up his plate again, eats slowly, savoring. He walks around knowing the traps are all his. He is in control, even when it seems like he isn't. control is his fortress.]

[It's a tiny, an infinitesimal victory. She watches him with eyes sharp as a serpent's tooth. She takes another bite, then settled her fork quietly on the edge of her dish.]

Not all of them, though. All of the traps can never be mine, because that would mean I'd beat you, and you can't have that, can you? Not ever. There's only so much you can make of me.

[She is very smart, and he is very proud of her. But he would cut her throat again if he thought for a moment that she could honestly beat him.]

Nihilism doesn't suit you, Abigail. We are eternally struggling to keep our heads above the water; that does not mean we give in and sink.

You aren't struggling. You never struggle.

[Just once, she thinks, she'd love to see him struggle. And suffer. And she'd help him up again after, but wouldn't that be something.]

Don't act as though the rules apply to you as well. It's dishonest and rude.

In all things, there is an exception that proves the rule. [And he is exceptional.]

Do you believe I've never struggled?

No. Not necessarily. Everyone has struggled. But again - exceptions.

My assumption would be that you've struggled and defeated struggle. You've risen above it.

[She does admire that very much, and doesn't bother to hide it.]

[He allows himself a small smile, and thought it would be self-depreciating on another, on him it's just quietly pleased. He's risen above a great deal.]

How do you imagine you can rise above it?

[She goes still and contemplative at that, considering. There are a number of options. None of them seem cohesive or complete.]

Does 'rise above' mean defeat or surpass? I think my answer would be different, depending.

Let's assume one, then the other. What is your answer for rising above?

First . . . I would need control. Sustained and solid.

[Her eyes meet his now, sharp as knives.]

Then I would use that control to leave struggle behind.

spam herp that was supposed to say defeat, how do rp anne

youwill - 2013-10-08 14:52 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

🍴 ( 003 ) Video

private

private

private

private

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

spam herp that was supposed to say defeat, how do rp anne