snowblindrpg | [log] A Snowhell Dinner Party [closed]

A single-story house with a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and living room. It's decorated in an old-fashioned style, with lots of ornate wood paneling and the like. The bed in the bedroom is a bit more modern, though, and is lofted to provide space for a desk underneath. A snowman has been built outside of this house.

[ With each step closer to the building Will felt the senses of anticipation and trepidation growing, along with an old friend he hadn't known in quite some time: anxiety.

Though they had been in communication for days now, and he believed he had a good read on Hannibal's frame of mind, Will knew better than to believe he had completely anticipated the Ripper's intentions. Hannibal could be at his most urbane in the very moment before he drove a knife between your ribs. Layer in the added stressor of this environment, and Will wasn't entirely sure of his current read on the older predator.

So when they came to the house, he moved to touch House's arm. ]

Let me. I've taken a certain amount of pride in the fact that you haven't died yet in my company. I'd like to keep that recorded going.

[ The words were flip, but his tone was grim and Will had fished the butcher knife out of pack. Palming it, hilt in his hand he let the blade rest along the inside of his forearm. A defensive position. ]

Edited 2017-11-23 04:44 (UTC)

[House pulls his cane off his pack and brings it down to a walking position. Will might note how natural the doctor's grip is. He takes up a limp as if it's one that's almost more familiar than his unsupported gait.

House seriously doubts he'll be able to fool Hannibal for very long, but he'd managed it with the Joker for at least a couple of days before House had had to purposefully break that deception. For now, this current one serves a similar purpose. He gets to play the wounded gazelle while keeping a favored weapon out in the open for when and if he needs it.]

Yeah, yeah. I'll play nice, Graham Cracker. I have dealt with psychopaths before.

[In the days that they have been in contact, Hannibal has had ample time to imagine how this meeting would go. At one time in their history, Hannibal would have answered Will's attempt to murder him with an attempt of his own, a quid pro quo. Doubtless Will is even now expecting such a move. But what Hannibal had said in their first conversation was true, that his compassion is still inconvenient. After three years apart and a beautiful kill by moonlight, they were beyond quid pro quo.

Besides, the meaning of Will's action that night was not merely an attempted murder. It was a binding of fates.

As he walks down the snow-covered street, he checks the landmarks, ensuring he has not strayed off course. When he looks up from his tablet and toward the house, he sees two people standing outside. Even from this distance, there's no mistaking every detail of Will's shape. Hannibal smiles, tucks his tablet away, hitches the toe bag full of fresh food over his shoulder, and heads toward his friend.]

We always insisted he wasn't a classic psychopath. Just, never had any specific classification for him.

[ Leave it to Hannibal to come up on his flank.

Will had expected the other man to be inside the house. He pushed open the door expecting this, and so was a bit bemused when he felt a desolation from the space that suggested it hadn't been inhabited recently.

Stepping back outside, brows drawn together, he was about to ask if they were in the right place, when he saw movement from off to the side. There was a predatory grace to the way Hannibal moved, that was unique to the man and Will stepped to place himself in the older man's path, keeping House behind him. ]

Hello, Hannibal.

[Really?

House just raises a brow at Will stepping in front of him.]

Dude. I'm like four inches taller than you. At least.

[He raises his free hand to Hannibal in greeting.]

Yo. It's cold, so if anyone's feeling real murdery, can we get that over with now? Otherwise, inside before we do the touching reunion.

[The casual response and flippant tone belie tension. He is watching Hannibal very closely.]

PErhaps we should leave that question to the man with the knife.

[Yes, Hannibal noticed. His eyes move to Will's, and he raises an eyebrow.]

Are we seriously going to measure size in this moment? [ Will fired back over his shoulder, eyes still on Hannibal.

Most people would probably have the grace to look abashed at being caught out with having a knife in their hand and at the ready. Will gave Hannibal an innocent you taught me well look as he swept the older man's hands for evidence of a corkscrew.

For a moment he held his ground, still struggling with the idea that Hannibal wouldn't be looking for his pound of flesh in return. They did need to talk, now that they were face to face, and after another breath, Will slowly raised his hands, showing the knife, which he then moved to put back in his backpack. ]

I'll get the door. [ He offered. House was right, they needed to get indoors before going further with reconnecting.

The ex-profiler suited action to word and walked up to open the door, holding it for House and Hannibal. ]

Mine's bigger than yours.

[Just putting that out there since you went there, Will.

House doesn't particularly want to be the first one in with his back to Hannibal, but he suffers it, limping inside and claiming the far corner in the living room to set down his pack and watch the other two from. He's here for the show, so he'll let Will and Hannibal talk first.]

Edited 2017-11-24 04:37 (UTC)

[Of course, as per usual, Hannibal is not as clawless as he might appear. The hand he has curled around the straps of the tote bag was concealing the corkscrew, the handle entirely enclosed in the fist, the coiled metal tucked against his wrist. Utterly invisible, but as dangerous as a tiger's velveted claws. One might think that Hannibal couldn't possibly defeat someone holding a butcher knife with a corkscrew. They do not know Hannibal Lecter. Indeed, he would give himself better than even odds even if he had no weapons but his own hands.

When he comes to the door, close enough to Will to feel him, to smell him, Hannibal feels such desires for this man, to touch him, hold him, kiss him, kill him. Instead he gives him a slight yet easy smile, and heads inside.]

If we're talking egos, maybe. [ Will muttered as House moved past him. It was bro code, you just could not let such a boast pass unremarked.

As for Hannibal.

Perhaps better than anyone else alive, Will knew just how dangerous the doctor could be and it usually had nothing to do with any secondary weaponry. If it did come to a physical confrontation between them, quite honestly at this point Will could only hope he'd be able to incapacitate Hannibal enough that the man would not be able to kill House after he'd finished with the ex-profiler.

He and House really were about to lock themselves in a cage with a very large, lethal tiger of indeterminate temperament and intention.

Were he by himself, the situation would be a rush. He had always felt his most alive when he was tangling with Hannibal. It was part of the foundation of their blurring. But despite the stunt House had pulled with the video, Will still had the protective instincts of a law enforcer, and House did not deserve to die.

As Hannibal passed without immediate incident Will was not foolish enough to let his guard down. If anything he recognized that Hannibal was aware of the advantages he held once the door shut behind them. House and Will would be locked in, trapped. Against a man of Hannibal's strength, training and relative fitness, combined with the doctor's experience in subduing and killing humans?

Will didn't put much stock in their chances, should Hannibal decide he wanted fresh meat.

But the decision had been made days ago and now, here they were.

Stepping through the door he closed it behind him, feeling scant relief as they were now out of the elements. Will noted that House wisely positioned himself in a far corner; at least the man had some sense of self preservation. Will allowed himself a moment to lean against the door, studying Hannibal, taking him in the way Hannibal had just done with scenting him.

Conflicting emotions that he'd been able to hold at bay as he and House indulged in poor life choices, rose from the dark shadows in which they had been banished. Will's over active imagination quick to supply the emotions he'd felt in the last moments of his life back home. The adrenaline rushing through his veins, stirring desire, the thrill of the shared kill, the heavy scent of blood, the tang of feeling more alive than he had in his life and the peaceful serenity that had come with all of it.

Hannibal's arms around him, pressing against the other man and the way the land had tipped out from beneath their legs as Will had taken them over the cliff's edge; still entangled.

Pushing away from the door, Will paced a path that sent him between Hannibal and House, a wide circle as he watched to see what path Hannibal was going to take. It was reminiscent of how they had briefly circled the Dragon, only now, Will wasn't entirely sure what play Hannibal had up his sleeve. ]

I've been thinking about this, since I learned you were here. [ He said, voice soft, still pacing. 'You reckless, twitchy, little man' Bedelia's breathy, angry tones echoed in his head, the words as accurate now as they had been then.

Will reversed his course, circling the other direction now. ] Trying to listen for which cords you'd chose to open this particular composition.

It took me a few days to recognize that it was an effort in futility. [ His pacing had brought him around, to face Hannibal directly and here Will stopped. ] Because I don't believe you're sure yourself.

[ It wasn't a derogatory comment on Hannibal's awareness of himself; Will knew the older man better than to ever question that core understanding. But rather Norfinbury. A town so far removed the rules upon which hung the societal curtains of the veil men like he and Hannibal wore as to render those veils without purpose.

Utter freedom, encouragement to breath in the horror, to thrive upon it, after years of constraint. ]

How are you finding all this freedom, Hannibal? [ And he didn't mean the physical freedom. ]

Edited 2017-11-24 22:14 (UTC)

[When Hannibal entered, he first watched where House was going, wary that the man might try to incapacitate him. Perhaps for his own purposes, perhaps because he and Will had colluded to take Hannibal down. Once he is reasonably certain that the other doctor isn't about to ambush him, Hannibal heads toward the kitchen. He pauses when Will circles him, standing still, turning his head to keep Will always in at least the corner of his eye. When the younger man stops in front of him, Hannibal tilts his head, absorbing Will's words, considering his response. He glances toward House, then back at Will.]

Do you believe, Will, that freedom means that I will kill with impunity? That I will somehow lose all control and no longer carefully plan my dinners and the ingredients I require?

[His eyes sparkle.]

And I thought you knew me.

[ The cannibal pun earns Hannibal a flat look, but otherwise Will doesn't allow himself to rise to the bait. ]

You, I know. This environment is the unknown factor. [ There was a pause, before Will made a small bob with his head and amended. ]

And the fact that last time we were in each other's physical presence I took us off a cliff.

[ Will watched Hannibal for a moment longer, before he began to move out of the man's way. ]

Forgiveness between us has usually come at the price of blood.

[ Abigail's blood, Hannibal's blood, Will's blood. Just to name a few. ]

[Meanwhile, House smirks, in spite of himself and knowing how dangerous the current situation is. He has to hand it to Hannibal. He's objectively funny, provided you're in on the joke. Watching him troll poor Will is also incredibly entertaining. House raises a hand and taps a finger to his nose.]

Not it for being the blood price. And he's anemic, so maybe give it a week or two if blood prices are on the table. That covers us for the next few days, right?

Edited 2017-11-25 04:16 (UTC)

[Hannibal turns his head toward House, giving him a nod.]

I assure you, at the moment I am not interested in a blood offering from either of you. After all, you need it to summon an Elder God.

[Hannibal inclines his head toward the kitchen, inviting the younger man to join him.]

Do you believe that what happened between us on that cliff is of the same kind as our other attempts on each other's lives? All three of us bled that night. And you and I died together. We have been resurrected from the waves.

[ He caught that smirking out of the corner of his eye and shot House an aggrieved look. ]

Don't encourage him.

[ Alright, there was something surreal about the fact that Hannibal was on guard against getting teamed up against by House and Will, House was on guard against teamed up against by Hannibal and Will and now Will had to worry about the two atrocious humor twins!

He glanced at House and flicked his eye to a spot where the older man could probably position himself to have a good view of the kitchen, while still being out of the immediate line of fire. Then he stepped into the ghost like space with Hannibal, moving automatically to the side and out of the way. ]

I believe that what happened on that cliff was meant to be a culmination of the zero sum game that lay between us. [ Will crossed his arms over his chest, a position that slid more towards a sort of self embrace, than a defensive posture. His voice lowering. ] It was meant to acknowledge that I couldn't live without you, but that our having agency in the world was ... forbidden.

[ He tilted his chin downwards, reluctant to give House any more ammunition, but at the same time aware that if he was going to have this conversation, there was something poetic to it being House eavesdropping on the words. ]

I haven't entirely known what to do with myself since I woke up here.

[You can't stop the humor, Will.

Faking his old limp means House isn't exactly quiet as he shuffles over to the point Will's indicated, but he does wait for Hannibal and Will to enter the kitchen to start moving. It gives him a little more cover as he drags his pack along and ends up just sitting down to watch this. He makes an attempt to look like he's not just eavesdropping as he starts pulling cooking utensils out of his pack. Hannibal was downtown, which means he probably has decent food. And he's going into the kitchen which also probably means he wants to cook something. House hasn't exactly stocked up on relevant cooking supplies, but even with as meager as his appetite is, he'll contribute in the hopes of getting something actually hot and not vending machine food.

He lays out the following in a neat row next to him:

Dish soap;
A one cup metal measuring cup;
A full set of metal measuring spoons;
Metal tongs;
A wire whisk;
A bent metal fork;
Two metal spoons, one of them bent;
A roll of paper towels;
A quarter-full bottle of olive oil; and
A roll of tin foil

After that, he pulls out a magazine that appears to have risque imagery on the front--scantily clad women. He leans back so it isn't obvious that the cover has been switched out. Really, it's magazine about monster trucks, and he puts on his reading glasses to pretend to read it while he listens.]

Edited 2017-11-25 05:16 (UTC)

[Hannibal notes every item that House lays out with some amusement. One might think that the other doctor was himself a culinary afficionado, what with the implements that he is carrying around with him. Hannibal himself sets both the tote bag and the shopping basket he's carrying onto the table and begins to empty it, pulling out apples, oranges, peppers, tomatoes, an onion, a package wrapped in butcher paper, a baguette.

He knows House is listening to this conversation, but ignores it for the moment.]

And now? Can you live without me, Will?

[ Lovely. They were into the show me yours stage of this interaction.

Regardless, Will began to unpack as well. His contribution was:

Firewood
Lighter fluid
Sugar Cubes
Butcher's Knife
Dowel Rod
Screwdriver

As he worked, his head down in an attempt to not think about his audience; particularly House with the damn porno mag.

Regardless, Will didn't try to shy away from the uncomfortable truth. ]

I knew I couldn't live without you when I came back for the Dragon.

[ There really was no point in trying to pretend otherwise, even if he recognized that Hannibal's stay away had been added fuel to the fire of drawing him back. He'd realized, in his verbal sparring with Bedelia, that it was a simple truth.

He was always going to come back to Hannibal. ]

Edited 2017-11-25 05:43 (UTC)

I was about three years ahead of you.

[Because Hannibal's own declaration had been on the lawn that night when he surrendered to Jack Crawford instead of being banished from Will's life forever.]

What use freedom, if it means being torn asunder?

[As Will lays the screwdriver on the table, Hannibal reaches over, and sets his hand over Will's.]

[ Back in the BHCI Will had insisted that he'd sent Hannibal away, because he knew it was the one play that would bring Hannibal back of his own volition.

The truth was; Will wasn't entirely sure.

Everything had been so blurred by that point, that he couldn't be entirely certain that he hadn't been testing Hannibal's commitment to the entanglement between them. Had Hannibal kept running, taken the freedom offer, then Will could have worked from a broken heart, but tried to put what remained of his life back together. That Hannibal had returned, spoke in a way that could never be captured by mere words.

As those deadly fingers closed over his hand, Will froze but he didn't remove his hand from Hannibal's. The warmth of the man, anchored their current reality in a way that Will couldn't begin to described; yet his shoulders relaxed and his hand rested softly beneath the Hannibal's touch.

For a moment, though he was aware of House's breathing and his presence, that awareness fell to the peripheral, as he looked up at Hannibal. He really had been talking about the man in almost every conversation with the diagnostician, and as House was an addict himself, surely he understood this moment?

After a moment, he looked up towards caramel colored eyes, watching the flicker of banked maroon within, before he spoke. ]

I told Bedelia, that I had no intention of allowing you to be captured again. There would be no repeat of those three years of separation. Jack expected the use you to capture Dolarhyde and to kill you both during the capture.

I don't believe my own plan, aligned with Jack's ... the way it had in the past.

[Hannibal holds that eye contact with the same gentleness as his hold on his friend's hand. How many times had he returned to that particular shade of blue in his mind palace whilst imprisoned, remembering it as one of the distinguishing characteristics of the man he missed so dearly?

Will's revelation prompts a slight cock of Hannibal's head.]

Were your intention merely to see me dead, it would have been easy enough for you to allow Jack's plans to unfurl unimpeded. Perhaps you could not allow my death to be at the hands of anyone but you.

Edited 2017-11-25 17:49 (UTC)

[ It felt like so long since he'd seen that curiously tilt to Hannibal's head. A gesture that seemed to appear when the man was genuinely engaged with a curiosity that intrigued him, rather than bored by the mundane of normalcy. ]

No more so than you would have allowed anyone else the pleasure of killing me. [ He pointed out and for the first time since they had reached this house, his lips twitched into a genuine smile. ]

It seems there are some of life's horrific beauties that we will not deny ourselves?

[That smile is so lovely, and Hannibal smiles warmly in return. Someone who was witnessing this from the outside (House, perhaps?) might find it bizarre that their expressions of affection center on the expressed desire to be the one to murder the other. For the moment, Hannibal doesn't care. House is already aware of their particular, peculiar, relationship. No need to obscure the truth of it.

He lifts his hand from Will's, and uses it to caress the side of the younger man's face, settling to cup his cheek.]

[ A hand to his cheek usually precipitated a knife to the gut but Will was starting to become comfortable with the idea that Hannibal didn't mean bloodshed. At least, not at the moment.

He leaned into the touch, equally unconcerned about having an audience. They had played out their dance for public consumption often enough in the past. Chilton, Jack, Alana and others. Will was used to being judged for it, and also for being unwilling to alter his own chosen course as a result of that judgement.

Of course, this didn't mean he wasn't braced for the trolling comment he expected would be coming from House at any moment now. ]

[It's a good thing will is expecting comments from the peanut gallery. Unfortunately for him, it might be a little hard to decipher what they are.

House has no idea what languages Hannibal actually speaks, but the accent says eastern European. He'd been hiding in Italy for a while. And he's a connoisseur of fine food. French comes to mind, but it's one of the more common languages for Americans to know. That goes for Italian and Spanish, as well. Of the options left to him, Japan is probably next most well known for its culinary arts.

He speaks up in perfectly fluent, if accented, Japanese:]

Oh, for god's sake, just kiss the boy. Do I have to wait for the commercial break?

[log] A Snowhell Dinner Party [closed]

Night 304 - Building 137

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject