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"Will," he says again, smiling warmly. "I'm glad I caught you. I wanted to apologize for my behavior."
Will blinks at him, and leans back against his car, hoping to put some distance between his teeth and Hannibal's neck. He just drank, he's not hungry, but his mouth is still so dry. He folds his arms across his chest and tilts his head.
"So apologize," he challenges. Seeking, maybe, some crack in Hannibal's control, some proof that Hannibal can be offended, and that Will is justified for showing his teeth so often. The way the world is, challenging a powerful wolf like him isn't without consequences – if the wolf itself doesn't lash out, he has the favor of the law and society behind him. Will has nothing but his stubborn pride and his teeth.
Hannibal, though, merely smiles at him, and ducks his head in a demure nod. "I am deeply sorry for causing any offense," he says. Will blinks, and sucks in a breath, fingers flexing against his biceps. "And I'd like to invite you to dinner tonight, to atone for my actions."
Will blinks, brows rising. That is unexpected. And he really shouldn't accept it – if Jack holds to his word, Hannibal will become Will's caretaker, if not his outright escort, and the thought of a wolf babysitting him while he helps on a case he barely cared about in the first place is bad enough. They shouldn't even attempt any greater connection than that.
But the prospect of seeing Hannibal's home, of catching the wolf when he has no one to perform for, of getting even a whiff of his true nature, is an enticing one.
He lifts his chin. "I like my meat rare," he says.
Hannibal smiles at him, wide enough to tease Will with another glimpse of his teeth. Will can easily imagine him as a wolf – black, Will thinks, and big. With a muzzle that could kill in a single snap. He shivers, shoulders tensing, as Hannibal's eyes drop to his neck.
"Excellent," he purrs, and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a card. On it is his name, his phone number, and his home address, and Will wants to ask what kind of wolf just has cards with his address on it to hand out to any- and everyone, but he resists. Wolves like Hannibal don't think they have anything to fear. "I'll see you at seven. Come hungry."
Then, he turns away. Will watches him as he goes, swallowing, eyes lingering on his broad shoulders, his long legs, the way he moves – animal, for sure, but more feline than anything else. Suddenly, it doesn't feel like he's eaten all day.
