Liv bb I wrote you a fic I hope the rest of your week is better than today was~
"You can hear them, can’t you?”
Will doesn’t want to be here, in Lecter’s office waiting room in the middle of the night. He doesn’t want to talk to this man, squirrelly and pale and eyes-too-big, waiting for Hannibal and their other strange, unexpected guest to emerge from the office door.
But if Will drew the line at what he didn’t want, he’d still be fixing boat motors.
The smaller man looks up at his question, still hovering near the door with his head cocked.
“It isn’t any of your business.” He snaps. The guy is British, or something like it. His accent’s far more faded than Hannibal’s rumbling Danish voice, but still very much there.
Will shrugs, huddling further into his chair; he aches, prickling with exhaustion, with proximity. His dogs are at home, waiting for their master.
Well practiced in the art of not-looking, Will nods at the floor. “Five of th--”
He blinks, eyes rolling up from the rug and over the rim of his glasses. His voice finds the whispering crack of surprise, distrust, thinking without knowing why - get out of my head.
The man only smiles. Will meets his eyes for half a second -
a mouthful of spider’s legs and cold nails on your back the harsh grit of grave dirt blood and blood and blood
-- and he looks away. His skin crawls.
“What -” His voice cracks. Gears shift. He tries again. “What did you say your name was?”
The answer is distracted, all irritation. “Renfield.”
Will’s lip twitches up, a dry snort of laughter snapping through the quiet.
The door clicks and whatever answer there might have been is cut off - the black suited figure suddenly in the room doesn’t say a word, but Will still has a sensation of panic. Of circling vipers in a pit. Lecter’s voice trails after the man like a shade.
“It has been a pleasure, Mr. Tepes. I do hope to see you again.”
Will glances wordlessly to Hannibal, but the doctor’s eyes are hidden in the shadow cast on his face.
(He’ll think later, in all his armor of discomfited, spiteful humor - the least harmful monster in the room.)
