A minor change from last time: they're sitting on a couch, sufficiently out-of-the way to satisfy his wish for privacy.
Offering up a pair of small, bitter smiles like doves released at a parley, Hannibal tilts her heads to an armchair nearby, silently inviting him to sit.
Attmepting to improve the outcome of this conversation by making the setting more comfortable is almost certainly a futile effort, but like the switching places, they can't see how trying would hurt.
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Will freezes for a moment when he sees them, still as stone.
Then his hand drops to his gun and he strides towards them.
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Their eyes flick up and (caught) they reach for one another's hands, long fingers intertwining.
If Hannibal ever shook, now would be the time.
She doesn't.
As always (breathing deeply, evenly) they wait for him to make the first move.
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"I'd like to talk to both of you."
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They're tense. Very tense.
A minor change from last time: they're sitting on a couch, sufficiently out-of-the way to satisfy his wish for privacy.
Offering up a pair of small, bitter smiles like doves released at a parley, Hannibal tilts her heads to an armchair nearby, silently inviting him to sit.
Attmepting to improve the outcome of this conversation by making the setting more comfortable is almost certainly a futile effort, but like the switching places, they can't see how trying would hurt.
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Damn.
All right. Time to be proactive.
Midmorning sees the Hannibals outside, burying Stephen Just's body.
They even lay flowers across the grave, although it is otherwise unmarked, in a gesture of whimsical solemnity.
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"Hello, Will."
"We're leaving flowers at a grave."
As you do.
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He sounds confused, mostly.
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