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- Hannibal (TV) (18)
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Summary
The wind chime above the door rings and Hannibal lifts her eyes from the book she’s reading. He looks around the coffee shop and sighs when he sees that it’s empty, rubs his palms on his chest and walks to the counter where she’s standing and waiting for him. It’s been a week, she thought about him every day.
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Hannibal takes a bite of a cupcake and gets powdered sugar on her upper lip, Alana stretches to wipe it off but Will is faster. Hannibal thanks her softly and Will smiles, it gives Alana pause. Will doesn’t smile, generally, Alana had to wear her down for months to see a corner of her mouth lift and Will did it sarcastically.
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The closer he gets to the still, silent man, the more details of his appearance he notices. First, the man is naked, Will shudders in his jacket and moves faster; second, the man’s skin is pale and unblemished, no wounds, no bruises and no dirt. He might not be dead then, hopefully, just sleeping in a bog nude for some reason. If that’s true, Will may be able to save him, he has to get to him faster. His boots begin to sink, it’s more and more difficult to fight the suction, but he’s so close now that he sees the third thing, that the man is absolutely beautiful. Will’s stuck to his knees, he puts his stick on the ground for support and jerks his leg to free himself, several more lunges and he’ll be right beside him.
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The bright overhead light reflects off the white tile floor and blares into his weary eyes. He’s hungry, and thirsty, and his muscles ache. Hannibal can’t find a comfortable position on the squeaky chair so he stands up and walks in circles around the hall. When he passes the vending machine for the third time, he gives up and buys a can of soda, the thought of another subpar coffee makes his stomach turn. The sugary drink is refreshing only for a minute, then he feels a slight tremor run down his body, his head spins and he lowers himself in the chair again, leans his head on the wall and closes his eyes.
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Summary
Will is smoking in front of her fireplace and staring at the flames unblinkingly, unseeingly, lost in thought. There are words swirling in her mind and she can’t catch a single one and focus on it, they all are a swarming elusive blob. She knows a lot of words, she loves many and hates many of them, she isn’t sure how to choose. Her lower lip is throbbing faintly and she worries it with her tongue or her teeth to make it bleed again. Her hand, the one that’s not holding a cigarette, keeps coming closer to her crotch and she pushes it under her ass not to get distracted.

