[ This must be how Hannibal feels when he's conducting one of his - utmost of experiments, toying with someone else's life and watching with that small, curve of a subtle smile regarding his results. Will, too, has a puzzled sort of look to his expression, eyeing the legs of his bed and starting to draw conclusions.
It's just a bed. It's not his bed. It's just a bed, it's hardly that. It's a cot, and Will eyes Hannibal over for a long few seconds before he shrugs a shoulder. Sure. Why not?
Conduct his own experiment. ]
Desperate times. [ He quips, and tugs a sweater on once he's disposed of the sweaty t-shirt. That leaves him in his boxers, still, but it's better than nothing, and he's interested in that caffeination. ]
I don't have a weapon.
[ He adds uselessly, eyes narrowing as he makes his way towards the door and peers down the hallway outside while Hannibal needs to do whatever he needs to do. Funhouse mirrors line the walls, but little else indicates trouble. Here, he's learning to know better. ]
spam
It's just a bed. It's not his bed. It's just a bed, it's hardly that. It's a cot, and Will eyes Hannibal over for a long few seconds before he shrugs a shoulder. Sure. Why not?
Conduct his own experiment. ]
Desperate times. [ He quips, and tugs a sweater on once he's disposed of the sweaty t-shirt. That leaves him in his boxers, still, but it's better than nothing, and he's interested in that caffeination. ]
I don't have a weapon.
[ He adds uselessly, eyes narrowing as he makes his way towards the door and peers down the hallway outside while Hannibal needs to do whatever he needs to do. Funhouse mirrors line the walls, but little else indicates trouble. Here, he's learning to know better. ]