waking dream /night·mare/ (nīt´mār)

❝Graham had a lot of trouble with taste. Often his thoughts were not tasty. There were no effective partitions in his mind. What he saw and learned touched everything else he knew. Some of the combinations were hard to live with. independent will graham rp blog based on hannibal (nbc) and loosely on the character from red dragon by thomas harris

[neithersaintnordevil-deactivate]

“No no it’s fine, I can get it for myself.” Alana gives the other a smile as she follows his line of sight to the spare chair and makes her way there to wheel it over.

The FBI consultant settles herself in the chair with ease, crossing her legs and leaning against the table, merriment in her eyes as she regards her friend with fond familiarity. “Well now,” she counters with a sliver of a grin,”That would be ruining a good surprise, won’t it?”

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

Graham takes a slow seat when Alana goes back for the chair, only coming to rest once she's seated as well. "I guess it would," he answers lightly, before continuing to ask, "So, what was so tantalizing about your class that kept you late? You said your students were asking you questions."

He half-smiles, eyes dipping down toward the floor, then back up to her face. "It's so rare that a student asks a good question."

[the-devils-chauffeur]

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

all replies done woop woop twirls away

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

Meeting eyes and watching someone's face while they talk are two completely different things. Will does the second quite often when speaking with people. He's good at reading expressions and facial tells (like recognizing thought processes according to which way a person's eyes move, or unconscious twitches in the face, as well as deciding whether they're being truthful or not).

If he's being watched back, however, he tends to get distracted from the conversation and becomes hyper-focused on being stared at. That's why he alternates between avoiding eye contact, and watching people when they naturally turn to examine other things.

[aseaofquotes]

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

Orson Scott Card, Speaker for the Dead

[matthewbecker82]

[deathangelstarling-blog]

Clarice patted her side with her free hand quietly out of force of habit. Being a student was not an easy thing to be when you already had two degrees under your belt, plus other training. But here she was. She had heard several things about Will Graham and his talents and she was eager to see what she had to offer him.

As he looked up she flexed the hand at her side to stop it from moving. Crawford had assigned her directly to Graham’s class, though his reasoning was unknown to her. She had heard vaguely of Miriam Lass and what became of her when Jack took her under his wing and she could see from first glance at Graham that he wasn’t stable either. Crawford had a mixed bag when it came to his selections, but he was the best and she was willing to do whatever it took to get put into his unit. 

“Hello,” she began, her voice steady, accent still a little too thick for her liking. “I’m Clarice Starling. Jack Crawford said that I should report to your classroom. He instructed me to speak with you about the Chesapeake Ripper.” 

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

Crawford's name was the spark that finally beckoned the man's attention. He turned a tired gaze up from the papers scattered across his desk, and met her eyes for a moment--just a moment. Her face was familiar. Graham racks his brain for a name.

"Starling," he finally says, splaying his hands on the flat surface and lifting himself out of his chair. "Clarice Starling. Sorry--I didn't realize." Jack's list of favorites was small, and it was hardly a surprise that each of them had heard about the others at some point. Clarice was exemplary on the field in all the ways Will was not. She was an excellent shot, and a proficient leader in high-stake situations. He recalls the typewritten name Gumb, Jame on a newly closed case file.

"Is Jack putting you on the team?"

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

“It’s been long,” Graham answers, nearing one of the extended vertical windows and peering out the glass at the darkening sky. Leaves shudder on a breeze and it reminds him that he still has his jacket on. Leave it, he thinks. No point in getting comfortable. The subjects he and the good doctor broach in these sessions rarely leave him feeling comfortable—or comforted.

“No case yet this week.” Perhaps that was the reason he didn’t look so fretful.

Not that Graham was the picture of health, even now. The dark, circular patches of skin around his eyes were a seemingly permanent addition to his face, as was the ache in his shoulder and the frequent distraction from things happening around him. He was only getting worse, and every bone in his body made a point to remind him of that.

[pitifulthing-archive]

His suspicions were correct. He looked up to find Will near another window, having pushed back the curtains with his arm and stared out. Hannibal realized he hardly ever stared out those windows himself, unless he was expecting someone, even then, he’d rather stay composed at his desk rather than spy. He knew in Will’s case, he wasn’t spying. It was a distraction.

Hannibal’s eyes moved away at the mention of a case. “Good, you could use the rest. All of you could use the rest.” His fingers slipped from the objects and he went around to sit in the chair. He would be expecting a call later this week. A case. The cause of one. It would be much more than a case. 

Hannibal opened up the black book that had been on the top of his desk and looked to see who would be following Will’s visit. He put extra time between the two. “Why don’t we go elsewhere, for something to drink and eat?” He asked and was standing once again, still not looking at the man near the window. ”Unless you would rather stay here.”

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

Rest. Graham muses about the word, trying to recall the last time he'd really felt rested. He spent most of his days in a daze, the highlights peaking like an iceberg out of the water, and the rest muddled beneath it. He'd teach a class, and then forget what he did after. He'd arrive home and realize he'd driven there on auto pilot. He'd find himself staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom and struggle to remember when he showered and climbed onto his mattress. A mess.

The familiar, brassy voice pulls him back to the office.

"That seems a little unconventional, doesn't it, doctor? Removing a patient from the facility." Graham's tone is jesting. All things considered, he wouldn't mind a change of scenery, and he could nearly always use a drink. He steps away from the window and admits to his sarcasm.

"I don't mind. Where?"

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

Jack Crawford heard the rhythm and syntax of his own speech in Graham's voice. He had heard Graham do that before, with other people. Often in intense conversation Graham took on the other person's speech patterns. At first, Crawford had thought he was doing it deliberately, that it was a gimmick to get the back-and-forth rhythm going. Later Crawford realized that Graham did it involuntarily, that sometimes he tried to stop and couldn't.

Red Dragon, Chapter 1

[neithersaintnordevil-deactivate]

“I suppose you can say that I got a little too carried away with my lecture today. In my defense, the students were asking very insightful questions.” The edges of Alana’s lips quirked upwards at the memory. The FBI consultant rests against the edge of Will’s table lightly as she took a sip of her own coffee before teasing him in a good natured fashion. “I wasn’t aware that you were looking forward to my arrival.”

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

Her gentle prodding pulls a smile onto Graham's face. It's getting easier for him to joke with Alana. He can still catch a whiff of tension in the air, and the kiss occasionally creeps into the back of his mind, but she's good at being a friend. She's good at being there for him.

"I would have been if I had known you were coming," he says, rolling his chair out from under his desk so he can swivel to face her. The fact that he's sitting and she's standing seems to occur to him suddenly, and Graham starts to stand. There's a chair stuck neglectfully in the corner, and he gestures to it, offering to pull it over for her.

"You... Do you want to sit?"

[folieeaadeux]

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

You get scared to walk home? [Graham turns the idea over in his head. Funny. He’d never seen Katz look scared before, so the thought had never occurred to him. It’s only natural that someone working closely with dead and very often mutilated corpses would be uncomfortable in the dark. He only realizes now that he had viewed her as an exception to the rule.]

Well, if you. If you ever needed someone to walk you home, I’d go. [Not that he thinks himself the picture of masculine strength. Especially not lately.]

[labratkatz]

No, not scared. Just aware. I prefer to be the one doing the examination, not the one being examined. [ Beverly removed her hands from her pockets to cross them over her chest. ] And maybe a little bit paranoid. [ Easy enough to admit, fear was in everyone, though the amount varied depending on the person. ]

[ Bev glanced up at him, a little surprised by the offer, the smirk on her lips grew. ] I don’t walk everyday. But, I wouldn’t mind the company. 

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

I know the feeling. [The cadence in Graham's voice is teasing, but it's obvious he's not really making a joke. He'd become recently well acquainted with paranoia.]

I'm sure Jack's given you my cellphone number. You can call it if you ever need to.

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

Allumette

[baisunas]

“Will,” Hannibal stated, allowing a warm amusement to tinge his tone the way a touch of salt would bring the sweet from pastry. The other man was abrupt, but retiring and Hannibal had allowed him to take the adroit turn from rude into eccentric with only the mildest touch of recrimination. He understood that silence would speak louder to Will than filling the space with useless words. He’d been finishing his notes from the previous client and folded the journal on his desk, the chair rolling back silently on the rich oriental rug. As he stands, he shakes out his watch to check the time.

“Your punctuality is appreciated,” he comments, moving around to lean on the opposite edge of the desk, long legs stretched as he palms the wood. He moves fluidly, canting into the slight head tilt like a pianist depresses a pedal- making each stroke of body language elegant and caramelized with a prepared warmth. “I would like to discuss your interactions with your coworkers, today. Unless you have something else you would prefer?”

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

"I was in the neighborhood," Graham replies. What he doesn't say is that he had been waiting nearly three hours for the session to begin.

The night before he'd been chased in his dreams. By what, he didn't know--perhaps by Garrett Jacob Hobbs, or by the sound of a ragged animal, or by himself, stained slick with blood. He'd been running all night, gasping and clawing for a safe place, and it was Dr. Lecter's sleep-warped office that he'd finally barricaded himself inside. A sanctuary. A month prior he might have felt silly for carrying that feeling over into reality, but now... now he could hardly gauge the difference between the two spheres. What lived in one fed from the other. He needed a place to hide from both.

So he'd been sitting in the waiting room, out of sight of the office door. He could watch it open and close with each passing appointment, but the patron doctor could not catch sight of him. Safe, safe safe.

"I've got nothing else," Graham says, hardly five seconds passing between the pulse of his thoughts and his reply. He's forced to pause and consider his phrasing. He tries again.

"That's fine, I mean."

[betterthanholmes-blog]

You sound like my ex. He’s a detective, very interested in the criminal mind. Personally, I’m fine with staying away from murderers. Irene Adler, good to meet you.

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

You know, lately I'm starting to disagree with your ex as well.

Will Graham. [He extends a hand to her for a quick shake.]

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

had a very busy week so i kind of had to abandon this account for a while but i'm back now and working on replies and headcanons and stuff (❁´◡`❁)

[alwaysthedelight-archive-blog]

“There a vendin’ machine nearby, yeh? Got a dollar’n a mighty cravin’ fer a Snickers.”

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

Oh... Yeah. Sure. [Graham sets down his papers, points briefly, then steps into the hallway. The machines are a little tricky to find, so he figures leading the way is better than remaining a constant calling card if the man got lost.]

Just down here.

[labratkatz]

Good is an understatement.

[ She took a moment to organize the desk before she motioned for Will to wait. Leaving him for a moment to place her lab coat in her locker in exchange for a leather jacket. When she returned the corners of her lips twisted into a smirk, her hands shoved into her coat pockets. ]

You’re driving by the way. I’ll navigate.

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

[Left alone in the lab, even for just a minute, leaves Graham with the overwhelming sense that he’d made the right choice. Maybe being alone is exactly the opposite of what he needs right now. ‘Good is an understatement’. Beverly was right—as usual. She was more perceptive than Crawford gave her credit for. When she returns, Will takes a place by her side and walks down the dim hallway and away from the dead.]

Am I driving for future sobriety reasons, or because you’re feeling lazy? [His tone is light, joking. It’s easy to tease with her.]

[labratkatz]

I can’t afford a hangover, not with these kind of hours. [ She glances at him and smiles. It was empty and the sound of their mismatched strides echoed through the lonely hallways.]

I didn’t drive. I took the bus. [ A quiet laugh escaped from her lips. ] I was going to pull an all-nighter. The buses don’t run this late, and I spend too much of my time around corpses to walk home.”

[noeffectivepartitions-blog]

You get scared to walk home? [Graham turns the idea over in his head. Funny. He'd never seen Katz look scared before, so the thought had never occurred to him. It's only natural that someone working closely with dead and very often mutilated corpses would be uncomfortable in the dark. He only realizes now that he had viewed her as an exception to the rule.]

Well, if you. If you ever needed someone to walk you home, I'd go. [Not that he thinks himself the picture of masculine strength. Especially not lately.]