#closedthreads

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Intimidating || Jack + Amanda {CLOSED}

The building itself held such an air that Amanda had stood outside of it for thirty minutes trying to pick up the pieces of her courage the building had shattered upon first impression. Pictures hadn’t done it’s large scale justice, seeing it with her own eyes and watching as young special agents in training made their way inside and out—made it all the more nerve wracking.

Her attire mimicked that of the agents in training, standard issue uniform with her hair tied back neatly away from her face and instead of a purse; she had only a single tablet and pen.

Inside the walls were filled with young faces ready to go to a lecture among other things; instantly making her wonder why she chose journalism in the first place. If she hadn’t admired the occupation as much as she did, this would be a nice choice should she ever want to risk her life for the greater-good.

Her voice recorder was already in full swing, hidden beneath the black belt that wrapped around her waist. Destination: Jack Crawford’s office.

All she knew about the man was that he had been over Will Graham, who was now on trial for murder. He had also cracked plenty of cases within the last year or so. Leading up to the capture of the special agent who was now sitting behind bars. From all she could gather, Jack Crawford seemed like a good man. Mariam Lass, an agent in training, went missing years ago – though presumed dead – they only found her arm recently. Information was crucial and yet Amanda didn’t have too much to go on.

Crucifying Jack Crawford was not what she is set out to do, only tell his tale from his mouth and no one else’s. Especially if Will Graham is proven innocent by a jury – but if not at least the world would know his side. If only he’s willing to give it.

Amanda stopped by a closet to dump the identification she had used to get inside, pulled the t-shirt over her head and straightening out the tank top that was still tucked into her pants, making her look different than the special agents roaming the halls. She proceeded to the girls bathroom where she flushed the small card, then back to the closet where she poured cleaning solution on the cloth then back out into the hallway.

On her way to his office, she handed the shirt to a young girl and asked if she could get that cleaned for her. Clumsy Janitors and all that ruined her day, the whole freak out drill. Once the girl said she would, Amanda continued towards Jack’s office.

This meeting was crucial. She couldn’t have looked like an officer because in some ways, that was impersonating one and that was against the law. Though, she was sure there were witnesses who’d asked her name and why she were there. Looking like a student won’t get you in here. Either way she was in the doorway of one of the most intimidating men she had ever been in the presence of. It wasn’t his status on the occupational ladder, no, it was more of a – you don’t want him to raise his voice or you’ll find yourself with a bit of a bladder control problem.

“Agent Crawford?” Her voice was soft, almost like a scared child—but the last thing she wanted to do was set him off. “I’m Amanda Williams…” Her work was full of the truth. Nothing had ever been a fabrication or anything to make someone good look bad. Hopefully he could associate that with the name she had given him. “…can I have a moment of your time?”

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A Way To The Mind || Will + Amanda {CLOSED}

Virginia. She could feel the early morning sun beating down on her back, threatening to heat up the world around her but the breeze that tore through the trees proved to keep the sun from doing just that. The home that towered above her seemed humble and well taken care of. Something fit for a special agent, she inwardly commented to herself.

The media were always force fed the crucial information but spared of the grizzly details, so she hadn’t come fully equipped with everything Will Graham knew, but she hoped she could get into the brain of his and maybe start serving up some truthful news about the man who saved a young girl from her murderous father. Other journalists had come before her, she knew that much, but Amanda considered herself different than the likes of Freddie Lounds. The man who was known as a hero was exactly that in her eyes and she wanted nothing more than to make it so in everyone else’s as well.

Ascending the front porch steps, she made her way towards the door. Her hands were full of a home cooked breakfast from some sort of diner down the way. Scrambled eggs, sausage, biscuits, gravy(in it’s own container), and apple pie. Beer in the same bag, somewhat not as cold as it had been when she picked it up. In her other hand she had her purse hanging from her arm and two containers of hot coffee and tea, each. Bringing her foot up to lightly kick the screen door twice, she then stepped back.

No matter how weird or odd this looked, she believed the way to everyone’s mind was with food or something nice to drink. Especially this early in the morning. She had also gotten a couple of hints about him being a dog person, maybe they’d like some of the sausage. Either way, if this didn’t work out in her favor she might as well pack up and go home. Or keep trying. 

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Sterile Environment || Will + Amanda {CLOSED}

Hospitals always gave her the creeps and that included where she currently walked the halls. The uniforms and the patients reminded her of zombies, grunting and groaning along – not stopping for anyone or anything. If she was quiet enough, maybe she wouldn’t get affected or caught. The former being a joke that entertained her mind until she found what she was looking for. Will Graham’s room.

She only knew that after arriving outside of Alana Bloom’s home, Graham shot Abel Gideon and then was escorted here to be treated for something she wasn’t aware of. Will had been –supposedly- helping the bureau with cases which included Georgia who was currently a patient in the same hospital and Abigail Hobbs who was hold up at an institute. All in all, he had a nice alive body count behind his belt as well as stories she really wanted to sink her teeth into.

Choosing to wear her flats with jeans and a white t-shirt, seemed the best way to go for this encounter. Her red hair had been pulled back into a low hanging band, allowing it to rest neatly on her back. Her purse held a recorder that had already been switched on as to avoid any noises once in the room.

As quietly as she could she slid into the room and closed the door behind her. It appeared to be void of any one in particular, save for Will Graham who was in the hospital issued bed. She placed her purse in an empty chair, then headed over to the table that was nearest the window. She could feel the street lights trying to peak in through the curtains, calling out the night—lighting the way for the normal people who took to the streets, excited for a fun time out. Instead, she was making herself at home in a hospital room, bringing food to a special agent who appeared to be down on his luck lately.

Situating the plastic containers that held salad, barbeque pork chops, baked beans and slaw around on the table. Not her idea of the best meal but she hoped he would at least like something in it. In other options apple pie had been placed in the middle. All freshly ordered and ready to be consumed. Two drink containers sat in the middle around the pie. On filled with coffee and the other with tea. Last, but not least, two somewhat cold beers and four mints.

Taking a seat in one of the chairs she was determined to wait until he woke up, if he did for that matter.

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Speak of the Devil || Hannibal + Amanda {CLOSED}

Baltimore, Maryland. The location made her feel as if she were a child walking for the first time with clumsy footsteps everywhere she went. This was not her in the element she had become accustomed to nor was it easy for her to adapt, which with how much she had traveled – she should have been used to adapting by now.

Her cheap heels echoed in her ears to the rhythm of her heartbeat as she climbed the stairs to Dr. Hannibal Lecter’s office. Inside the waiting room was comforting, as opposed to the chilly winds that were tearing through the trees outside. She hadn’t arranged for an appointment or given so much as a phone call, but she was here. The only place she could think of at the moment to start.

Knowing very little didn’t help much either. Hannibal Lecter, the psychiatrist, was enlisted in the help of the bureau with special agent Will Graham. Graham had been under his care and yet the man ended up killing the young teen he had saved and possibly being linked to other murders – which wasn’t in her filing cabinet because not much had leaked to the public.

She had purposefully arrived later in the day in hopes the place would be empty of patients, from the looks of it – it seemed so.   The red head slowly walked along the waiting room, taking in the choices of décor and trying to get lost in it as she waited for the psychiatrist to walk out either to check for other patients or maybe head to his car.

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Bought the ticket, take the ride || Abigail + Amanda {CLOSED}

The tricky part about the field Amanda was so hell bent on being part of was others getting to the last cookie before you could. All you’re left with, then, is an empty container searching for crumbs. But, that wasn’t what she wanted. Only the best outcomes were acceptable and if she couldn’t have those, she might as well pack up and go home.

Three days. Agonizing and mostly filled with the same mint green walls that made her feel as if she were in a hospital were what they consisted of. Flipping through as many articles and online resources as she could. After dialing as many sources in her little black book, which was her final cry for help, she was left where she started. Abigail Hobbs was almost murdered by her father when special agents were onto him and his killing sprees. Put into a comma, woke up and after seeing one of her friends for the very last time, the friend ends up dead with nothing to show for it. Nicholas Boyle was charged with that crime as well as attacking two psychiatrists as well as Abigail. Never to be seen again.

Back to her father and his murders. Though, as much as they looked like art, she could understand how that would be tough for a young girl like Abigail. Pretending she knew anything about her would be pulling strings that weren’t there, leaving her reaching for nothing but air – coming up empty handed. The only option would be getting close to Hobbs and getting the teen to trust her. The only problem with that is—Freddie Lounds.

Stepping on toes hadn’t been her forte, but she was set on trying to get on Abigail’s good side and maybe having something to show for it. Aiming for the truth and getting it in a personal manner had always been her main intention. Never settling for tricking someone into admitting anything—most of the time.

Port Haven Psychiatric Facility Batilmore, Maryland

The entire building gave her chills. It was as if she had walked into a ninety’s horror film, ready for someone who looked like an insane doctor to walk out with orderlies and drag her into there to keep her locked away forever. She couldn’t imagine what it looked like to a teenage girl.

Inside the place was no different. It smelled of fresh linen and medicine mixed with the musk of the outdoors. Her black heels clicked loudly against the hardwood floors as she came towards the front desk. The girl she had talked with yesterday was on call today so she could easily lie about the name and tip her enough to get her in and out without any hassle. Usually nothing worked out this well,  naturally she was ready for something terrible to come out of the situation but until then holding on tight and taking the ride she bought the ticket for was her only option.

Amanda situated herself in one of the chairs in what looked like the activity room, turned on her recorder that she had concealed in a holder beneath the hem of her black pencil skirt since her white blouse would give away the tiny object too well. Awaiting for the nurse she had tipped off to bring her the young teen.

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Standing Ovation || Tobias + Amanda {CLOSED}

Musical piece. Something she wasn't quite ready to write but if she looked at it from a different perspective it might be convincing enough for her to say it is. With the current murder being kept under as much wrap as saran, improvising was the only way she could get closer to finding out more. The department wasn't sharing and no one wanted an interview with her about the murder. Again with the wrap metaphor.

Word had traveled about the body being staged like a cello, fit to play. No matter how much that made Amanda's skin crawl, it still amazed her how it seemed like killers were becoming creative again. But had they ever stopped?

Cello shop. Never in a million years had she seen one -- an entire shop based on just cellos...that is. But if she were to understand anything, then she would need to seek professional guidance. Though she was sure she looked like a lost child in the middle of Manhattan in here. 

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Reaching for air {Clarice + Amanda}

"People like her would never talk to someone like us." Jimmy had repeated that constantly before she left Florida, so much so that it was starting to sink into Amanda's veins and she could already feel the pull to give up and go home. She had only been around this place for a day and already she was ready to cry wolf just to get someone to notice. Especially Clarice, but that wasn't how it should happen. 

It felt like all she saw was the insides of her silver Prius. It smelled of leather and cheap washing detergent. Life one the road was never glamorous, it was the chase that was rewarding. She wasn't in this occupation for flame and money, though the road sure seemed like it.

Watching Clarice day in and out made her feel like a stalker trying to pick up the ticks and habits of it's latest victim. But, no. This was more of a find the right time and place sort of thing. At least for her. 

Hopping out of her car she walked up two steps of the Baltimore mental institution. Maybe this wasn't the best place to chit chat, but it sure did set a crazy backdrop. She checked to make sure her hidden recorder was on and that her breath didn't smell of the black coffee she had just downed seconds before she arrived. All was good to go. She just hoped she wouldn't trip over the red head or be too hard to get information from. She was the only one that she knew of at the moment who had access to Hannibal Lecter, afterall. 

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Spilled Ink {Alana x Amanda: CLOSED}

New town, people, scenery, businesses and stories. At least that was what the red headed journalist had hoped would come out of Maryland. She had come here on a whim in hopes to get a slice from the latest story everyone seemed to be jumping at in her ink filled world. The story of a man who had been helping the Federal Bureau of Investigation. She had read that he was currently on trial for murder. She had heard of cases like his. How a killer would save their victim just to get the satisfaction of getting as close as they could right before they cut off all ties and take them by their own hand and not by the other looming figure, which would be Abigail Hobbs' father. 

The only ties to him would be Jack Crawford, Hannibal Lecter and Alana Bloom. Getting in touch with either of them proved hard, especially if she had anyone use her real name. Journalists usually were handed the boot when seeking information on something like this because some give others a bad name. She wasn't one to step on any toes or talk bad about anyone who didn't deserve it, and even then she sympathized at points, but the fiery woman wouldn't take no for an answer. 

Setting up an appointment under a fake name with Alana Bloom was the only route she could think of to start at and if she didn't have a starting line, she might as well pack up and go home. Nothing easy is worth pursuing.

The waiting room had been quite entertaining due to how soft and warm it felt, as if it were meant to keep everyone calm. By the looks of a couple of the people in there, it was severely needed. Immediately she had regretted leaving her glasses at home because it went with the outfit, made her seem softer. 

Crowded spaces had never cleared out so quickly and before she knew it, it was as if the faces she had seen before never existed and silence pulled her attention to every tiny detail surrounding her. The sounds from the other rooms, the wind outside...Stop getting ahead of yourself. she reminded her inner panic attack that seemed to be climbing up a short ladder.