[Hannibal holds back. Bruce is right, in a way: Hannibal is not here to help. But he doesn't stay out of it completely, hovering back to make sure there are no others. The bones under his feet would be a decent blunt weapon, but he doesn't bother to reach for one.
He sees the weapon he wants.
The native reaches for it, a crude knife good for carving up meat. He slides the pack from his shoulders, taking in Bruce's agility. He moves on silent feet, circles behind the man with his knife, and just before he can swing for Bruce's jugular again, Hannibal wraps his arms around his shoulders, neck, grabs and twists--
The crack is audible, and Hannibal allows his body to turn with the momentum, uses the creature's thin frame to hide how he palms the knife, slips it into his sleeve with all the ease of someone used to the task. He doesn't rise immediately, instead turning the man over onto his back, peering at his face in the dark.]
no subject
He sees the weapon he wants.
The native reaches for it, a crude knife good for carving up meat. He slides the pack from his shoulders, taking in Bruce's agility. He moves on silent feet, circles behind the man with his knife, and just before he can swing for Bruce's jugular again, Hannibal wraps his arms around his shoulders, neck, grabs and twists--
The crack is audible, and Hannibal allows his body to turn with the momentum, uses the creature's thin frame to hide how he palms the knife, slips it into his sleeve with all the ease of someone used to the task. He doesn't rise immediately, instead turning the man over onto his back, peering at his face in the dark.]
Will you bring a light, please?