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#﹤ ✧ v. / even the devil appears angelic. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.#this scene was 2 cute gby e

* WILL !

TEMPTATION . it builds thickly in his veins , curling in the pit of his stomach : silent , yet there may as well be an all too familiar voice in his ear whispering , COME CLOSER . between them there’s no denying the chemistry , nor the electricity , & the dependency it breeds . as addictive as any drug or vice , & equally as self destructive . there will always be a part of him that wants to kill hannibal , he thinks . at least , in some metaphorical fashion . the reality is this : they are two halves of a singular whole . conjoined , bleeding into one another & intertwined more intimately than anyone could begin to fathom . but that’s just it , isn’t it ? the last ledge , the final plunge into the dark below , a consummation of everything that already lives beneath the surface . of every dark impulse of possession & want that claws at his ribcage , gnawing at him from the inside out . the confession , while not surprising , still startles the animal into a brief interlude of quietness : mulling over the words , letting them sink into his bones . the final proof of what he’s always known , but never heard uttered aloud . not where he could hear it , at least .

“ even when i’m hunting you ? ” yet even that is rhetorical , because will sees . he knows , because they’re the same . both reflections of one another , & the gaps that need filling . “ what a pair we make : too much emotion , & not enough . some would say that we’re balanced , in that way . ” fingers curl , nails catching the inside of his palm before will exhales , letting the tension leave his body . even in that , there was minimal. how telling , that he feels so relaxed around someone so dangerous : the one person that would break him irrevocably . the opposite is also true . right now he feels whole , one steady ground , even with thoughts less than tasty . “ you know how i feel . everything else seems like a blur , but you’re always in focus for me . you’re in my head , in my bones . i keep running back to you . for all of my plans , just seeing you again is … good . ” BUT NOT ENOUGH .

“ even then. ” it should startle , how true those words ring. how deeply will has burrowed into his being , infected his thoughts , FERMENTED IN HIS BONES but the connection between them goes deeper , is even more intimate , than that. so tightly entwined , rooted in one another , they’re no longer distinguishable —- if ever they were. he can forget that night no easier than will. the shattering of a teacup and his heart , by extension. yet even the memories of will that dogged him all the way to paris brought a smile to his face and it wasn’t a sting of anger which assaulted his chest but a pang of loss at their separation. even now , faced with will , it seems so simple to cast old hurts aside; like a domesticated pet swept up in the euphoria of his master’s return , hannibal is eager to forgive and move on.

GOOD will says but it’s not quite enough to convey what he means and hannibal knows , understands the subtext and implications between them as he always has , yet can’t resist prodding for more , “ just good ? ” will visibly melts , UNCOILS in his presence and hannibal succumbs to the impulse budding in his fingertips; the brush of his thumb against will’s cheek is reverential and wary ( conscious of spooking the skittish animal ) and lingering all at once. “ it’s good seeing you as well. ” it’s meant to tease but there’s an undertone of sincerity unaccounted for. “ for all it’s wonders , i’ve found paris ... lacking. ” without you.

#empathable #breaking news: i hate this #and them #﹤ ✧ ic. / there’s a game that he plays. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

wickedastardly-deactivated20170

#﹤ ✧ v. / even the devil appears angelic. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

* WILL !

HE READS BETWEEN THE LINES . there was never denying the intelligence hannibal has , the way he moves . equally predatory and tactical : the bait is set , for will . all he has to do is take a bite , and breathe life to the unspoken truth . & oh , how he wants to . it won’t set them free , but that is the point . entangled , lost in one another in nearly every sense . the ache deep in his chest equally soothed & yearning for more . between them , undercurrents of potential , rivaling even what is already presented . SOMETHING TANGIBLE , inconceivable to anyone else . but still hannibal would wait , to see just how far will would expose his neck ( to see if he would be ravaged in return , an unholy matrimony ) .

“ i —— don’t know where that line is anymore . ” will yields , if only just , in these treacherous waters . a single misstep would pull him under the current , suffocating in the darkness he tried so hard to resist . he knew where the line was , once . knew it , but had no desire to cross over . yet hannibal inspires him , temps him to view the world as he does , to stand beside him : EQUALS . revealing in the madness they have brought upon one another . when will looks at him , he sees everything he never knew he wanted , but finds himself unwilling to live without . the last few most bearable , but a reminder of what was missing . what could have been . will cannot pinpoint precisely when things shifted , when the distinction of friend , enemy , and more began to blur . but it was undeniable now , inescapable , & no one is here to ground him back in morality. no one but himself , and now , faced with hannibal , it feels like a purposeful SELF SABOTAGE on his part . but he’s only human , & it was so good to not be alone . to not just be seen , but understood . accepted . wanted . “ we still might be the death of one another . there’s no guarantee of a happy ending . ”

will has waded these waters before. wetted his feet with a bit more than adam’s ale but has NEVER taken the plunge. willfully avoided the ominous call of the depths for fear of what lurks in the looming black , threatening to drag him under ... or so he’ll claim. hannibal suspects it has more to do with his reflection. apprehensive towards what’ll remain when all the dirt and grime and fallacies have been washed away and there’s nothing left to conceal the impurity beneath. will shies from his own wickedness , thought it ugly not so long ago , but of the few times hannibal’s snagged a glimpse he couldn’t disagree more: IT’S A THING OF BEAUTY. raw , primal and awe - inspiring.

it isn’t the first time they’ve traversed this ledge but never has he seen will so close to taking the leap. hesitant , still yet willing. every part of hannibal aches to see him tip over , to dive in at last and he can’t help but wonder if will realizes he won’t be alone; that hannibal is prepared to fall with him , if only he'd let it happen. “ happy endings are for fairytales. ” smugness edges its way in. hannibal hadn’t forgotten how much he enjoyed their repartee. how much he’d missed it and more but it’s a glaring reminder when directly confronted with the very thing he’d been deprived of for months. “ regardless , happiness isn’t exclusive to fairytales. it’s unique to everyone; a design of our making ... ” then , an extension of good faith in the hopes it will be reciprocated , “ YOU make me happy , will. ”

#empathable #can u believe #how gay he is for will smh #﹤ ✧ ic. / there’s a game that he plays. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

* LAURENCE !

——-@lovelieds \ closed starter !

The ill-minded were almost always offered roles to assist the Healing Church, all too willing to participate in ghastly studies on the Great Ones - especially the charter that accessorized wearing elongated bird cages around their heads, even if in the end they’ve become.. Furtive near his end. Whether they were always unhinged or - perhaps, succumbed to such madness during his research wasn’t something the Vicar concerned himself with. But, he managed to keep himself sane, even when the brewing lunacy surrounded him so. Laurence fancied himself sang-froid in mind, even as he was chaperoned into the clinic.

Mistaken for a madman, he’d dragged along to clinic after clinic - especially after his ‘off’ explanation on how he had washed up along the river with such horrid wounds. ( To be fair, not even he knew how those nails got on his thigh. It must’ve been long ago. ) Laurence creaked the door open in a confident stride. Composed as could be. His hands clasped together and his back straight. Due to a lack of better clothes, he was stuck to his usual attire of ‘hospital patient’. Which, if it weren’t for his old-established temperature of ‘Molten Lava for Blood with added fur’ that he’d adapted to over a millennia, he probably wouldn’t be as cold with the heater running. With a quick glance about, he met gaze with his appointed ‘psychiatrist’, accompanied by a smile that screamed exhaustion but genuine nonetheless.

❝ Salutations, - You’re Hannibal Lecter, yes ? .. Apologies, but I’m not quite sure what to do here. I’ve assured the nurses that I’m fine, and yet I’m still ushered into having private talks. I’m not getting persecuted for something, am I ? ❞

“ persecution is a tactic that hasn’t been sanctioned in the medical field for some time. not in any official capacity , at least. ” it's not quite a joke but the slight curl of his mouth suggests hannibal isn’t being entirely serious , either. he slips into this role easily enough , knows all the right things to say to disarm and veil the wolf lurking beneath sheep’s skin but there is nothing altruistic about his motives. A CREATURE OF WHIMSY , driven by a morbid curiosity. even on paper laurence had piqued his interest; few realized how lethal that alone could be.

“ it certainly has no place in this room. i’m not here to judge you , laurence. merely to understand and help shed some light in the process. ” hannibal continues , gesturing to an open chair with a gentle ‘please’. deceptively professional and polite and as much a means of lulling laurence into a sense of security as it is genuine.

#sangvinesanctum #﹤ ✧ ic. / there’s a game that he plays. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

* WILL !

“ YOU ALMOST SOUND JEALOUS. ” it’s not a taunt , or a jab : will wouldn’t be surprised if he was, but. as good as he was at reading hannibal’s self proclaimed art, where everything was laid bare for him to see, this was different. a playing field of grander proportions, in many ways, but without an audience. there is only them, and what they do. where even things unspoken weighed heavily in the air : crackling with potential, if only someone would reach out, and let it happen. < “ or maybe just disgusted. that it was even a possibility. ” his stubbornness prevails, if only for a few moments longer. IT FEELS LIKE ETERNITY.

“ i didn’t forget. ” how could he, really? even without a physical mark, there was no denying the trauma gifted to him that evening. he sees her face, still : sees her motionless. will can never forget that, either. it’s burned into his memory. but what is most unforgivable is that he is willing to overlook it all, because they’ve blurred together. codependent, ravenous. for all of strife and denials, will is physically content to be here, unafraid and soaking in every indulgent moment. throat dry, will has to swallow and take a breath, LEST HIS VOICE TRULY BETRAY HIM : “ i’d say your bleeding heart, but you already have me that. you made me suffer, and i made you suffer. you wanted me to chase you, and i did. you want my forgiveness . ? i think we both know that despite everything … . you already have it. you’ve gotten everything you’ve wanted from me. ”

“ you’re here , ” will chose him , not in so many words but the sentiment is there; interwoven in his decision to pursue. that doesn’t stop rancor from clawing its way up his throat at the thought of the alternative: of will back home , surrounded by his dogs. maybe even a wife , a child ( bile rises: hannibal had offered him the same ). it’s foolish to linger on but it wouldn’t be the first time possessiveness regarding will overrode his sensibility. “ i have little to be jealous of. ”

he is gluttonous in all the worst ways , especially when it comes to will; DEMANDING , indulgent and entirely unrepentant in his wanting. but will , in all his feeble attempts at squirming out of hannibal’s web ( his ambivalence only served to further entangle ) , has done little to discourage. “ NOT EVERYTHING. ” it feels like an admission. heavy on his tongue. heavier lingering in the stagnant air , filling the space between them. he isn’t admitting anything will doesn’t already know but it’s a truth they’ve both skirted. left unacknowledged out of some desperate bid at sanity on will’s part and because hannibal has never pushed. their relationship has always existed outside the bounds of convention: undefined , comprehensible only to them and hannibal is content with as much but will has cracked open a door previously bolted shut and hannibal , in all his selfish indulgence , can’t help but begin to nudge his way inside. “ never more than you were willing to part with. ”

#empathable #﹤ ✧ ic. / there’s a game that he plays. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

* WILL !

THE MAN AND THE MONSTER. one is a fiction, and the other is reality. he has come to know both intimately well, and knows for all their differences, there is some overlap. after all, to call something merely a monster at point blank is to rob it of dimension. every day murderers might be so dull and tasteless, but hannibal is not them : and even if many things in his life are a fabrication, the backdrop to his person-suit, there is more to his monster than merely his diet. hannibal is more than three dimensional, with intricacies and passions and pursuits outside of his hunt. he is not inherently a merciful creature, yet it would be a lie to say he has never shown will mercy, for all of the trauma he was subjected to. time and time again, I COULD HAVE BEEN WORSE. hannibal has killed people for less than will’s rejection, and yet here they are. trapped in a mutual orbit once again, easily slipping into a rhythm only they understand.

“ true love is for fairytales. ” yet will’s voice has a hoarse edge to it all the same, one that he has to swallow down thickly. has to avoid giving into the distinct desire to fall into hannibal, just because he’s there; because it would be familiar and long since denied. because will wanted to run away with him, AND NOW HERE THEY ARE, away from familiar, prying eyes and conflicting agendas. he had one. still might have one, but it’s malleable and always seems to have been, wherein hannibal is concerned. “ you can’t have love without trust. otherwise. . . everything is hollow. UNFORGIVABLE. ”

were hannibal kinder , he may have allowed will his delusions but while he has shown clemency , turned a blind eye to many of will’s transgressions , he is not a creature of compassion nor leniency. will has eluded madness on the basis of denial and hannibal has been tactful in his attempts to rid him of it thus far. “ if trust were an issue you’d be in virginia. SAFE AND SOUND. coddled by jack and alana; sanctified as yet another hapless victim of the chesapeake ripper. in time , you may have even fooled yourself. ” he’s speaking in hypotheticals , of course , but the notion still sours on his tongue.

it is telling enough that will’s here instead. that of the options laid before him , will chose the path that would lead him right back to hannibal’s gaping maw. where he could be swallowed whole yet takes it on faith that he won’t be. “ so , if not trust then forgiveness. i forgave you , if you care to recall ... you know the cost of my forgiveness. ” a pointed glance down , where absolution is carved into will's abdomen though it hadn’t stopped there. like a wounded animal he’d lashed out. only it wasn’t will who got caught in his teeth. “ what is the price of yours , will ? ”

#empathable #﹤ ✧ ic. / there’s a game that he plays. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

* MISCHA !

“it is kind of strange when you think about it. we let our minds linger on something that ends up hurting us… but we don’t do anything to stop it,” mischa pondered out loud; she wasn’t the most talkative person in the world, but when she has something on her mind, she doesn’t hold anything in. the stranger she just met gave quite a lot food for thought, even if he only put some grease on the cogs at the back of her mind. “it’s as if humans were naturally masochistic species to begin with.”

“ quite the opposite , i think. ” he is gentle yet certain in his rebuttal. appreciative of her viewpoint even as he nudges it in a like - minded direction. “ human savagery is intrinsic though often repressed. sooner or later it requires an outlet. i can think of no better victim than one we are intimately acquainted with. ”

#luckymuses #﹤ ✧ ic. / there’s a game that he plays. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

* KLAUS !

* @lovelieds for hannibal lecter / ♡

one probably wouldn’t expect klaus mikaelson to be a fan of the holidays, yet he was. a simple reminder of life when it was undoubtably more simple. or perhaps the fact that he thought he’d never get to celebrate again only made him enjoy the idea even more. as he made his rounds throughout the busy streets, surprisingly calmly and peacefully for once, his eyes landed on someone who was sat in the middle of the sidewalk, set up with their charcoals, paints, and canvas set on a giant easel. he inched closer to be able to get a better look at the art —- he was automatically intrigued, obviously. as he watched the artist begin to add colors, his attention fell on a man who was besides him. ‘ you a fan of art? it’s quite interesting, isn’t it? ’

he hums his agreement , redirects attention onto the stranger to extend a smile. a courtesy comprised of synthetic warmth. “ the human soul bared on a canvas. left open to scrutiny. ” if there’s an edge of knowing to his tone it’s because there’s artistry engraved in his being: in his every decision , every action. unfortunate that his preferred medium is one few can truly appreciate though it makes those who can all the more special. “ interesting might be too shallow a word. ”

#reignedvices #﹤ ✧ ic. / there’s a game that he plays. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.#boops

mendelsohnben

some beasts shouldn’t be caged

#﹤ ✧ v. / even the devil appears angelic. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.#i'll do replies soon #just need time 2 decompress after work

* MISCHA !

there was something familiar about the man, mischa thought to herself, as she noticed a stranger who had been - for a lack of a better word - staring almost right through her. almost uncomfortably so, though she felt a hint of safety and comfort. how strange. the young woman was never good with strangers; they made want to close up even more than she already did, even when she gives them a pleasant and polite smile. politeness – it was something she learned from a very young age, after all. “it’s alright, things like that happen,” mischa spoke, a soft french accent seeping into her words as she soon added a simple observation, “apologies for being a little forward, but i can sense it’s not a pleasant memory?”

melancholy suits him more than he cares to admit. especially this time of year , when even the weather can drag him back to memories best left buried , locked away deep in the palace of his mind. “ on the contrary , there were many pleasant moments. ” she smiles and it’s so reminiscent hannibal’s own mouth quirks almost imperceptibly. “ it’s unfortunate that those which aren’t are the ones that tend to linger. ”

#luckymuses #﹤ ✧ ic. / there’s a game that he plays. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

* WILL !

IT’S ALWAYS HIM. the pieces are always laid bare before him, readable if only to his own eyes; but hannibal seldom makes the initiation, preferring instead to leave will to make the leap instead. to bridge the gap, to make that final viable connection: as if it’s his consent to the madness, proving that he knows, and still intends to keep chasing. someone saner would have fled upon seeing not only what lingered beyond that human veil, but what reflected in those dark eyes. a creature of black ichor, predatory in every way that mattered : bearing A MONSTROUS LOVE. how he had ever been convinced of otherwise, when it is all painfully obvious now, will isn’t quite sure. a subconscious effort to preserve his facilities, maybe. but his mind had always existed on a slippery slope, making everything seem all the more poetic, even in it’s violence. every decision led him there, and will knows even if time was remade, he would still end up here. a slightly different path, maybe. but he follows the invisible thread between hannibal and himself selfishly, chasing that sense of knowing. the nooks and crannies in his head that seemed impossible to decipher are always so much clearer when he’s there. will knows himself, here. knows what hannibal always knew, and always saw. it may be have disconcerting, but, it was also equally flattering. and it bothered him that it didn’t bother him.

“ until i couldn’t anymore. ” will begins, tentatively; conversation has never come naturally, but had always been easier with hannibal than with anyone else. even with this, with things he would rather not unpack. with things he would prefer to ignore, if given the chance … . hannibal won’t give him even that small mercy. licking his lips, will wonders if there is any safe way to speak of this : ANY WAY HE DOESN’T FEEL EXPOSED, like a nerve, yet surprisingly safe, for all the ravenous teeth and claws that surround him. the dichotomy seems to go hand in hand with his preferred company, it would seem. “ but i’m still chasing you now, aren’t i ? for different reasons, but to the same end. i don’t like the separation, like i’m incomplete. tolerable, yet intolerable at the same time. why would i choose to be without you when i feel most like myself when you’re here ? even when things are being swallowed by flames, here is still where it all makes sense. ”

it’s an intricate dance , a precarious balance ; the push and pull , give and take between them and hannibal has always taken GREAT CARE to align the chips; positioning them in a way he can anticipate their fall. but will , fascinating in his difficulty , has always been an unknown variable. a cause for careful recalculation every step of the way because hannibal has never been able to predict him entirely. it served as a source of amusement during their initial encounters before the monstrosity in him recognized its reflection in doleful eyes and latched on; unsympathetic to will’s reluctance or plight ( he was safer locked away , where the gravitational pull between them had no bearing , where he couldn’t be sucked into the black hole at hannibal’s center and spat back out the same yet changed ) it’s a careful symmetry: hannibal’s influence and will’s resolve because while hannibal may be the one to set the table , it must ultimately be will’s decision to dine.

he hums , a soft , thoughtful sound. pleased. there’s a smile , perceptible and warm and when he speaks fondness lilts his tone , “ the day that man allows true love to appear , those things which are well made will fall into confusion and overturn everything we believe to be right and true. ” a pause , perhaps to let meaning settle. more likely to allow will time to process. contradicting it’s nature the creature residing in his core , that slithers it’s way up to the cavern of his breast where will is concerned , is noticeably absent. silent. gorged on will’s words alone but still it lurks. always willing to overindulge if presented the opportunity. “ an accurate assessment , wouldn’t you agree ? ”

#empathable #hannibal: 😍😍😍#﹤ ✧ ic. / there’s a game that he plays. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

mendelsohnben

#﹤ ✧ v. / even the devil appears angelic. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

starter call ! no cap bc i live on the edge but plea specify muse.

#billetdorsc

it wouldn’t be the first time hannibal’s seen HER; projected past traumas onto unwitting strangers , glimpsed her distorted likeness in the glare of a window as he passes. more so , she’s tied to sentiment. places , thoughts , feelings he can never escape in part because he doesn’t want to. this is inexplicably different , VISCERAL. he scarcely realizes he’s been staring ‘til he’s caught , “ forgive me. you ... remind me of someone i once knew. ” // @luckymuses

#luckymuses #﹤ ✧ ic. / there’s a game that he plays. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

* WILL !

HE KNOWS WHAT PEOPLE THINK. the truth they believe, when it comes to hannibal and himself. poor will, the victim; manipulated and emotionally contorted, torn apart and sewn back together again. it’s not entirely a lie, in many ways — and it’s something he believed just as easily as they did, at first. but then it wasn’t the whole truth anymore, and he saw: it never really had been. while hannibal’s influence was undeniable, will’s reactions were all his own. the decisions he made, were all his own. from pulling a gun on him, to murdering randall ( and what followed ) were his own, all the way to that phone call. regardless of how he had been manipulating hannibal, to be cherry picked by jack crawford, regardless of his initial indecision, his first instinct was still to call him. there were other options. there always had been, but will had always been drawn to the darker ones, the selfish ones: the ones that got him closer, not further away.

“ and would you call our – story ? ” death, betrayal, love and horror. it has all the hallmarks of a shakespearean tragedy, and yet … . he knows it is not quite so simple as a formula. the variables are different, they are different. “ what do you want it to be ? i would argue there have been mixed signals, between us. ( and that was putting it lightly, he knows; but it has always bee easier for him to understand the tenderness within violence, then outside of it. but it allows him to see a fuller picture than before — and seeing hannibal makes the worst of him ache, hungry; and the best parts sighs, accepting. knowing. ) i was almost worried i wouldn’t find you. that i might never see you again. you could have hid from me forever, i think, if you wanted to. that bothered me more than bleeding out on your kitchen floor. ”

silence overwhelms , stifles and hannibal has to look away to orient himself from the truth that threatens to pour out; heavy and viscous and too genuine. will has always inspired such sincerity from him and all the risks that go with it. there’s a gaping hole in his chest ( will started it , began the excavation , chipping his way inside before hannibal had enough sense to realize what he’d done but then , hannibal had finished it; he’d scarred them ALL in that kitchen , bared precious pieces of himself in the process ) it would be all too easy for will to reach in and manipulate just as he’d done before but even knowing , hannibal struggles with shielding himself. “ we are not so easily definable as a narrative , i would think. ” the reply comes at length , words carefully measured. he tiptoes ‘round the second query: the one that threatens to reveal too much , too soon. he remembers the throbbing ache that came with betrayal ... or was it rejection —- they coalesce in his mind , no longer discernible from one another. could he bear it a second time ? could THEY ? “ for the best , perhaps. it would be a shame to spoil the ending. ”

“ i could have. ” it’s a quiet admission but one they both already knew. will has found him only because hannibal allowed it , because hannibal wanted them to end up HERE , in this art museum at this very moment; TOGETHER. “ how far would you have chased me , i wonder , and to what cause. ” hannibal doesn’t have to wonder , he KNOWS or has an inkling but as with all predatory creatures he’s selfish , insatiable and the gnawing hunger within demands to hear will say it , to vocalize BRING TO LIFE the implicit truth between them.

#empathable #﹤ ✧ ic. / there’s a game that he plays. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

* JD !

ABSOLUTELY PETULANT. CONDESCENDING. INCREDULOUS.

He doesn’t remember the first or last time a therapist made a proper progress with him ——well, he only had two and both were school counselors BUT WHAT WAS THE DIFFERENCE?—— all of those were just people with a stupid notebook, pretending to be there and understand.

Why would Mr. Hannibal Lecter be different?

JD leans against the frame of the door, his suspiciously dirty black coat hanging to the sides with the same apathy as his owner. No need to act as a petty bad boy, when he is an INTELLECTUAL. The boy greets the hand of the doctor, shaking it with a brief ( fake ) smile. Cigarette lit between his lips, which exhale smoke as he speaks.

“Unfortunately, yes. Apparently, one of my bosses thinks I am in need of professional help…”, he begins as he steps in, Black boots kicking the floor with the heels in a lazy way as he makes his way to the couch at the opposite side of the room, allowing himself to flop on it. “…but you probably know that already. Shall we begin, then?

any disgruntlement at the youth’s temperament is shrouded beneath genteel guise. within these walls hannibal is a paragon of subdued patience , a solicitous auditor , donning his psychiatric suit with the same precision as he does the rest. a soft click signals the closing of a door before he turns. “ i’m privy to that much , certainly. ” forthcoming nature is as much a ploy as anything in this setting. truth breeds trust; minds are open , pliant in the intimate presence of such comfort. hannibal endeavors to inspire the same integrity.

there’s elegance writ in movement as he settles in the armchair opposite jd; legs crossed , hands folded in his lap. a notebook lay just within reach but remains undisturbed. “ but i’d rather hear your thoughts on the matter. why is it , do you think , your employer has recommended you seek professional guidance ? what red flags might you have raised ? ”

#frxzenbrain #﹤ ✧ ic. / there’s a game that he plays. ﹥ 𝓱𝓵.

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