"Not Unless They've Earned Them, Which No One Else Has. Statues Without Status Is Just Tacky. But Mine...

"You dare threaten the Great Maxwell?" He bares his fangs in turn and raises his hands in a grand gesture. It's... not quite as intimidating as it might be if he were forced to capable of appearing monstrous and twisted.

Insolent little worm... if only Maxwell still had his puppets, he would slash this pampered, pompous pup to ribbons!

"Deal's off, Beast. You've made a very grave mistake today. I hope for your sake that you find your blade returned to you before I get mine. Impermanent death won't save you; it means that I will be able to destroy you as many times as I see fit."

Pleasantries, done.

"If things went without saying they would not be written."

He grit his jaw, his lip lifting to reveal his fangs.

"Do not act the wounded party with me. You are trying to play me just as I am trying to play you. I would skewer you atop my blade if I had it, I would kill you without a thought if death stuck here. But I do not have my blade and death is inconsequential here.

What is it they say? Lets....make nice."

It worked. Their rickety, slapped-together, pitiful excuse of a portal did what nothing else could and took him mind body and soul out of the Constant.

Scrambling back from the edge of the cavernous pit next to which he’s landed, Maxwell casts hasty glances around. He could hug Mr. Higgsbury, kiss him even! They’re free! They’re free!

But Wilson is nowhere to be seen.

Had the portal broken behind Maxwell? He feels a surge of regret so strong it surprises him, but he shoves it down and pushes himself to his feet. If he had to choose between freedom for himself or his pawn, he’d choose himself, of course. He’s paid his dues to that wretched place and those wretched shadows, and he’s never, ever going back.

…which means that he shall have to reacquaint himself with civilized society.

He knows as soon as he steps through the portal that he’s not in his original dimension. That’s frightening, yes, but nothing he can’t handle; it seems he’s not the first person to arrive here from a different world, and although some of the technology is completely new to him (what is this item he’s been given? It certainly doesn’t look like a phone!), he’s creative, resilient, and determined to make his new home better than his last.

Armed with nothing but a book (has the Codex rejected him now that he’s escaped Their grasp?), he warily accepts the offer to be transported to his new lodgings and readies himself for the next chapter of his life. Checkmate, hands shaken, the game is put away for good.

Lecter might not yet wish to give the impression that he's engaging in close, careful observation, but Maxwell doesn't hide the fact that he's taking his own mental notes on the psychiatrist's behaviors. So far, so good, it seems.

"Oh, I comprehend it just fine, pal." He "comprehends" that They are a bunch of sadistic pieces of shit who love nothing more than to see him suffer. ...but of course, Lecter's right. Maxwell's only human, despite the physical and mental changes he's undergone during his time on the Throne, and They are distinctly not. For every secret he's uncovered about Them, three more wait, undiscovered, under the surface. Symbols and shapes flashing before his eyes, dark hands beckoning him deeper--

Maxwell frowns. He doesn't like that comparison.

"Then you had better help me remove the boulder altogether."

His daily routine? What does that have to do with anything? Shouldn't Lecter be asking about the content of the nightmares, trying to dig deep into Maxwell's psyche? Or worse, asking about Carter's childhood, so he can try to blame visions of Them on some tripe about how William's father and mother didn't love him enough?

"I treat myself quite well. One might consider it to excess, but I do not. Let's see... I recently became gainfully employed as a sort of... fashion model. Not a role I ever expected myself to hold, but one for which I am very well-suited." If only Higgsbury were here to appreciate the pun.

"Besides that, I sometimes explore the wilderness, or find myself at various establishments dedicated to providing entertainment and drink. Currently, my favorite is the Skullrender."

Maxwell seems as though he could go on and on about himself, but he finally stops, awaiting the next question. Was any of this actually helpful?

there's a successful attempt at not letting the surprise felt show, not having expected maxwell to so willingly discuss what haunts him. it's an annotation written down, as is the small fact he refused to take a seat ( " perhaps an indication of hesitation when it comes to therapy - standing facilitates the search for an exit " ).

soon, however, the pen is dropped, and hannibal's hands come to lay flat on the journal atop his lap. he wants to ensure maxwell knows he's being listened to. actively taking notes after every sentence is a good technique to guarantee the patient feels observed, to give off the impression hannibal is studying them closely ( and as far as he knows, there's no reason to steer maxwell in that direction just yet ).

" that's, unfortunately, not shocking. whenever the human brain lives through a scenario just past the bounds of its comprehension, there are lasting marks - a seemingly everlasting pull towards the place which traced its suffering. your body may not be there, but it is where your mind resides still. " his head tilts, a sign of compassion. " in some ways, you will resemble the figure of sisyphus, cursed to forever push the boulder uphill - only to find himself returned to the base of the incline upon success. "

for a split moment, he returns to writing, taking note of the nightmares. soon enough, his gaze finds its way back to maxwell. it's soft, almost. " noone can 'fix' these visions of terror but yourself, maxwell. i am merely limited to help you along the way. "

hannibal leans back, thoughtful, then finally adds: " for now .. i want you to describe to me your daily routine. the places you go, how you treat yourself. "

That had better be an attempt at flirting, and not an insult, or Mr. Server will find himself bloodier than the cage fighters.

...ah. Yes. Alright. Definitely flirting.

Like practically everything else there is to life, Maxwell is woefully out of practice when it comes to rapport of the amorous variety. He nearly finds himself blushing, which would be ridiculous, and instead leans heavily into "playing it cool" so as to not come across as an absolute fool.

"Don't flatter yourself."

Perhaps he's over-correcting. Whoops.

"You'll get a better tip bringing me my drinks than you will stroking my ego." Debatable.

"Unless you'd care to take a break, sit down, and tell me what you really think."

his gaze is met with a warmer one from will, seemingly unfazed by the stranger's cold behavior. where expectation waits for a rude comment, he's given a surprisingly polite one instead, a nice contrast to his attitude.

" well, that's a shame. all dressed up and you're by yourself? " will can immediately tell the man in the tailored suit is all about pride just from the way he sits up, shows off his outfit. instead of shying away, the writer steps closer, glides the tips of his fingers over one of the shoulder pads.

" custom made, huh? well, you're a sight and a half. it really complements your figure. " turning his attention to the notepad, he writes down the order, takes another look around the room. dar'khol is pretty forgiving, but will doesn't want to lose a customer because he's too busy hitting on someone.

spotting noone intending to order, he resumes the conversation. " so you're a man who likes his suits fashionable and his fighting rough. is that what brings you here, or was it the devilishly handsome server? "

Maxwell knows exactly what that means; he's too ugly to show his face.

He turns up his nose at the other man, considering snapping back that his features are just fine, thank you very much, but--

He sighs.

"No, I don't object."

This... could be fun, maybe. His would-be employer is certainly polite enough to "mask" his truthful appraisal with that line about mystery, and Max has always been intrigued by intrigue itself...

"I trust you'll find something suitably dashing for me to conceal myself with. What exactly would I be expected to do once you have me all dolled up?"

Cecil's eyes scan the figure from head to toe, lingering longest on his face. It's not...beautiful in the conventional sense, but it carries its own sense of dignity.

❛ For you, more than adequate. ❜

❛ You have a good silhouette, so your strength lies in your figure. I feel that you would benefit from an air of mystery, however— ❜ Here it was, his compromise:

❛ Do you object to wearing masks? ❜

It's not an uncommon question; everyone wants to know how he did it. Sometimes people demand answers in that certain insufferable, accusatory tone, waiting for him to slip up as proof that he's lying, tricking them, or simply insane. But it never happens, because this is the truth-- whether they like it or not.

"I used to be a normal stage magician. Skilled in sleight of hand, but not in any real magic. I wanted--"

Maxwell's brows raise. Did he hear that right?

"If that's the term you want to use, I give you permission." That's a new one, alright! It makes Max smirk, and keeps him from immediately launching back into a narrative all about himself. He has to give the kid credit-- they aren't boring him.

"What's your name?" He gives them a glance over again, this time with interest in who they are, not just what they look like.

"Yes, of course." Who doesn't want to learn more about his power. "Let me stop you before you get your hopes up too high; even the most brilliant experts in Craft magic can't come close to what I've done, so unless you'll be content with typical summoning spells, you should avoid it altogether. Think of it like the Big Bang; we can make some remarkable advancements here on Earth, but a creation event of that magnitude is a one-and-done deal. Even I couldn't make all of this again. That's the price I paid to allow magic to be a diffused resource. So that others might share in a glimmer of my power."

Isn't he generous.

. . .

Well now they're just really confused !

William nods along, stopping as Maxwell does and feeling a need to cover his face, tail coiling around his ankle. It's all so embarrassing, even if he is being complimented. He hates being Afterborn . . . ❝ I-if you say so . . . ❞ They say, looking down at his wringing hands in note of the black claws. Then to Maxwell's own, and back again.

❝ I guess I got another question first . . . Uh, how . . . how did you get into all of this ? I mean, you're talkin' about magic like— I mean, you seem to really know your stuff . . . about that, a-and about me. ❞

William winces, gritting his teeth. He's rambling. Deep breath.

❝ How did you get into magic, and learn so much ? And also uh— areyoumyfather ? ❞ William manages a hasty mumble, looking down past fidgeting claws to the paved ground. ❝ I think I'd like to learn more about you and your magic. A-about your power. ❞ They add, a desperate effort to skirt around that. Their face is on fucking fire.

gotta teach a child how to play because no one else wants to play with him anymore

"Hell if I know. Call someone, perhaps? It is supposed to be a phone, is it not?"

Who would Maxwell even call...?

"I've been told I can pay with it, among other things." So far, everyone's been gracious enough to handle that process for him when he's wanted to make a purchase.

"I suppose the first step would be to understand what it is actually used for. You have one, too, yes?"

"What're you trying to do?" Brad's not the most social, and generally doesn't care about others, but...

He can emphasize with a fellow grumpy old man.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘: 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑 & 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄.

bold — applies.

italics — sometimes applies.

blank — never applies.

EYES. avoids eye contact when nervous, maintains eye contact when nervous. | avoids eye contact due to being neurodivergent, enjoys eye contact as a means to read and convey emotion. | looks down when emotional, looks up when emotional. | cries openly, wipes tears quickly, suppresses tears. | wandering gaze when lost in thought, holds gaze while thinking. | seeks out eye contact for reassurance, seeks out eye contact to gauge enthusiasm during conversations, eyes move constantly during conversation. | expressive eyes, emotions only evident through eyes, uses eye contact to intimidate. | looks up while thinking, looks down while thinking.

HANDS. clasps behind back, rests in lap, fidgets with clothes. | twiddles thumbs, chews at nails/skin, pushes back cuticles, draws patterns on table/counter surfaces. | animated gestures while speaking, only gestures to emphasize, utilizes sign language, speaks only through sign. | callouses, scars, smooth, wrinkled, worn, soft, delicate, boney, slender, thick, veiny. | touches others while speaking, reaches out while laughing, reaches out to comfort others, reaches out to seek comfort. | places face in hands when exasperated, places face in hands when exhausted, places palms over eyes to hide when overwhelmed, rests chin in hands. | taps fingers when impatient, taps fingers when nervous, taps fingers while thinking. | scratches scalp, strokes chin, rubs back of head, toys with objects around them, runs fingers over surfaces while walking by.

MOUTH. chews lip, chews at inside of cheek, licks lips, bites tongue, chews on straws. | resting frown, resting smile, neutral resting expression, resting pout. | grinds teeth, flexes jaw. | covers mouth when laughing, covers mouth when shocked, covers mouth when concerned, hands to lips while thinking, covers mouth when chewing, chews with mouth closed, chews with mouth open. | smirks, grins, subtle smiles, wide smiles, sad smiles, intimidating smiles, menacing grins. | openly smiles, tries to suppress smiles, bares teeth when angry, lips quiver when emotional. | stutters, speaks quickly, speaks slowly, good pronunciation, poor pronunciation, moderate pronunciation. | purses lips, sucks in lips, holds mouth open when shocked or confused.

LEGS. bounces leg when nervous. | draws knees to chest when sitting, draws knees to chest as a means of comfort, sits on knees, sits with legs crisscrossed, sits with legs spread open in chairs, crosses legs when sitting in chairs, sits with one leg folded under the other. | places feet on furniture, never places feet on furniture, sits on counters, sits on desks, sits on tables, sits on edge of seat, sits hunched over with forearms on knees, arches one knee up, sits on the arm of chairs/couches, feet on dashboard, swings legs back and forth when sitting somewhere elevated. | wiggles toes when nervous, wiggles toes as a general tick. | shuffles feet, kicks foot into ground, stomps feet. | loud footsteps, quiet footsteps, silent footsteps.

HAIR. runs fingers through hair, tugs at hair, picks at scalp, chews on hair, twists locks of hair while thinking or nervous, smooths out locks of hair while thinking or nervous. | prefers hair out of face, prefers long hair, prefers short hair. | wears hair back, keeps hair down, smooths back hair. | plays with other’s hair while talking, plays with own hair while talking, strokes hair to comfort others, likes having hair stroked for their own comfort, braids others’ hair while talking, braids own hair while talking. | flips hair out of face, pushes hair out of face, leaves hair alone even when falling into face.

tagged by: ---

tagging: @circvtry / @feralreason / @testingrealm !