Will Had Begun Drinking At 8.  He’d Left Around 10.  So, About An Hour He’d Been Out There, Staring

Shit.  Will turned to take a look at Hannibal now, taking in the posture.  “I’m not done being mad.”  He said, “I don’t know when I will be.”

"I'm sorry."

“Are you, now?”  Maybe another glass in he’d have been more ready; but they were doing this now.  He downed what he had in his glass.

Reblog this if you slept with my ex-wife Susan.

Trying to prove a point to my divorce lawyer.

Well excuse me, I didn't think you'd appreciate hauling bags of bait and a pole into the middle of a freezing river for hours on end.  My apologies, angel-fish.

yeah, SURE you knew.  SURE you did. 

but now that you mention it, going without me was a dick move.  is it because you don’t think i’d look sexy in waders?  i’ll have you know that my ass looks fantastic when covered in loose-fitting rubber. 

Wax poetical about art, and Will would usually sink beneath the surface of an inward stream to drown you out.  But it was a curious sensation to have someone come so close to the mark; like his intentions were being torn out from within him and placed under a microscope.  He felt simultaneously exposed and invigorated.

“Schrodinger's Painting.  Well, hell...”  Will rubbed his lower lip with his middle finger to suppress a smile - unsuccessfully.

He took Dr. Lecter’s hand and shook it, let himself glimpse the man’s eyes; he was intrigued by the color, and memorized the points of light in them for later reference.  The rest was admiration, and then...not much before the veneer of polite social grace.  Very different...

“You certainly see a lot, doctor.”  He said,  “I’m Graham, Will.  I don’t know if you saw my name on the brochure...”  He turned back to his painting, then back to Dr. Lecter.  “This one’s actually mine.  I wanted to know what you saw; you seemed enamored.”

“Can’t say I’m disappointed.”  He let himself smile this time.

Never Paint Dreams or Nightmares │runsonfear

Hannibal looked over at the man who he instantly recognized to be Will Graham, he didn’t comment on the recognition.  

Looking back over at the painting and clearing his throat, he spoke.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, does it?” He said with a small smile.

“Or it could mean everything. That’s what is so special about art. The artist’s intentions don’t matter when it hits the public’s eye. I could look at this and see nothing, while another man might look at be reminded of the tragic death of his children… and another might see, in it’s strokes, a vision of his own death, or future becoming. 

Every painting, despite the intentions, both simultaneously means everything and nothing at all. I would compare it to Schrodinger’s Cat… Or for this, Schrodinger’s Painting. 

But as far as intentions, I think it might be just that. The meaning is that there is no meaning, other than what we decide to project on to it, which is neither accurate nor inaccurate.”

His smile grew a bit wider and warmer as he held out his hand to the other man. 

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter.” He introduced.

No.  It doesn't surprise me.

What surprises me is how persistently you're trying to get me into bed with you.  Not that I'm not flattered.

We’re very similar in the way we think and act. I feel a certain passionate draw to you, it feels even seductive at times; I know you feel that as well, being the empath you are. Of course, you aren’t bad looking either.

This seems to surprise you?

Send me a '☾' if we haven't roleplayed before and you would like a starter

IC WORD ASSOCIATION.

READ THE WORD THEN TYPE THE FIRST WORD THAT COMES TO YOUR CHARACTER’S MIND. (REPOST, DON’T REBLOG).

TAGGED BY: @drhanniballecter TAGGING: // idkk whoeverrrrr

ROUGH: Waves

HIDE: Away

FOOLISH: Mistake

SAD: Without

HATE: Burns

LIGHT: Find

DARK: Enclosed

MOTHER: Gone

FATHER: Motor

CHILD: Hope

MARRIAGE: Sweet

LOVE: Ideal

SOFT: Foam

PET: Dog

DREAM: Fleeting

DIVORCE: Loss

WATER: Power

LOUD: Shout

ANNOUNCEMENT:  Alert

POWER: Control

FIGHT: Kill

SMACK: Strike

WHITE: Noise

SICK: No

KISS: Nice

HUG: Trust

HURT: Betrayal

HAPPY: Maybe

Will watches the flex and roll of Hannibal’s muscles for a few moments; the suggestion beneath his shirt, the tightening sinews of his arms.  He removes his own jacket, folding it over one of the kitchen stools.  Instead of rolling up his sleeves, he undoes the buttons of his shirt and discards it the same way; he stretches his arms, now feeling a little freer in just his undershirt.

“You think this’ll be enough, then?”  He stirs the chocolate with a wooden spoon, turning it over to keep the temperature even.  It occurs to him that, at a previous time and place in their lives, Will might have had an issue with Hannibal having an entire bowl of chocolate ready for this.  It also occurs to him that he is no longer the Will that would have that issue.

He dips his finger into the chocolate, about up to the second joint, covering it in thick syrup.  He walks over and brings the chocolate up to Hannibal’s lips.  “Tell me how it is.”

// if u wanna // [runsonfear]: "I assume this is a food."

“You’re not hesitating are you? I assure you, it’s delicious.”

// haha when u wanna save something as a draft so u hit ‘save draft’and then tUM BLR FUCKING POSTS IT