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🍴 ( 007 ) Video
[Private to Mal]
A favor.
[He will absolutely go elsewhere if she says no. ]
[Private to Esther]
Your gift was lovely. Forgive me for being remiss in returning the favor, and allow me to make it up to you.
[Open Spam]
[Late at night, each night since the gift exchange, Hannibal has been going on excursions. He works in pieces because he is still death tolling, and though he can mostly master his pain it is exhausting. But he won't have these gifts in his office for a moment longer, so he decorates the Barge instead:
A singing, organ embroidered table cloth he spreads over a table in the mess hall.
A leg lamp he sets on a table in a common room far, far from his own.
A plush appendix left on a couch, and a snowglobe of the human interior left beside a table.
The pink, ceramic heart is placed in the art room, to serve as a paper weight.
A lampshade with printed optic nerves he trades for another lampshade in another common room.
The poster he just throws into a fireplace. Some things are just too rude to subject others to.
All of these he lays out, at different times, on different nights. His gift to the Barge.]
[Spam for Alana]
[He's angriest with the Admiral, for taking so much time away from him. His so called coma would have been better spent in dealing with Alana, in building up the walls around her, in laying out bait. He had so many entertaining ideas, so many different ways to approach. She would have been interesting.
Now, she knows - he is certain of that, at least, certain that if she didn't find the information from people like Ben, Ned, Zane, that by now Abigail would have told her. He could keep his distance, draw up a shield, but that has done nothing in recent months save leave him very bored and very dead. He is tired of boredom. And it would be much more interesting to place himself in Alana's line of sight, to keep her from attaining enough peace or solitude to steady herself.
Because she is very, very steady.
She is company he enjoys, actually. There is a moment where he realizes that he will miss their conversations. It's the moment just before he leaves his room and heads for hers.
His suit jacket is tailored and buttoned, his shoulders are back and his head is up. He is in control.
(He can still taste fury on the back of his tongue.)
At her door, he knocks politely and waits.]
A favor.
[He will absolutely go elsewhere if she says no. ]
[Private to Esther]
Your gift was lovely. Forgive me for being remiss in returning the favor, and allow me to make it up to you.
[Open Spam]
[Late at night, each night since the gift exchange, Hannibal has been going on excursions. He works in pieces because he is still death tolling, and though he can mostly master his pain it is exhausting. But he won't have these gifts in his office for a moment longer, so he decorates the Barge instead:
A singing, organ embroidered table cloth he spreads over a table in the mess hall.
A leg lamp he sets on a table in a common room far, far from his own.
A plush appendix left on a couch, and a snowglobe of the human interior left beside a table.
The pink, ceramic heart is placed in the art room, to serve as a paper weight.
A lampshade with printed optic nerves he trades for another lampshade in another common room.
The poster he just throws into a fireplace. Some things are just too rude to subject others to.
All of these he lays out, at different times, on different nights. His gift to the Barge.]
[Spam for Alana]
[He's angriest with the Admiral, for taking so much time away from him. His so called coma would have been better spent in dealing with Alana, in building up the walls around her, in laying out bait. He had so many entertaining ideas, so many different ways to approach. She would have been interesting.
Now, she knows - he is certain of that, at least, certain that if she didn't find the information from people like Ben, Ned, Zane, that by now Abigail would have told her. He could keep his distance, draw up a shield, but that has done nothing in recent months save leave him very bored and very dead. He is tired of boredom. And it would be much more interesting to place himself in Alana's line of sight, to keep her from attaining enough peace or solitude to steady herself.
Because she is very, very steady.
She is company he enjoys, actually. There is a moment where he realizes that he will miss their conversations. It's the moment just before he leaves his room and heads for hers.
His suit jacket is tailored and buttoned, his shoulders are back and his head is up. He is in control.
(He can still taste fury on the back of his tongue.)
At her door, he knocks politely and waits.]