[OOM] pack hunters

[collects_strays]

Now, he's starting to delay.

It might be the dissipating effects of the norepinephrine release, his body becoming aware that the threat has passed, his heartbeat slowing, each act he follows grinding through his mind. The splash of water against the basin seems louder, lamplight reflections and shadows in the hallway blotting his vision again.

He hasn't slept, and it's beginning to slow him down. But Graham knows this isn't the only reason he's dragging his feet.

The coppery scent is gone, the sink's basin is pristine. It's still nearly a minute before he makes himself reach out, and turn the tap off.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"I never considered it a debt," Dr. Lecter says, reaching out for the cutting board with the onions.

[collects_strays]

Graham watches him, and takes another step back from the kitchen island, folding his arms.

"Any gift comes with some kind of debt."

The words seem to coalesce from nothing his mind, and they're gone from it just as quickly.

[cook_the_rude]

"But was it a gift?" Hannibal says. "I knew her for what she was -- a natural ally."

[collects_strays]

"You have plenty of those."

His mind flickers back to the hospital, and smaller birds mobbing a hawk on a wire.

[cook_the_rude]

"No," Hannibal says. "Not nearly as many as would like to be."

[collects_strays]

"Maybe not every one you'd like."

[cook_the_rude]

"So I will rely on the intersectional set."

[collects_strays]

He takes a breath, and steps back toward the counter.

"You don't make it easy, Dr. Lecter."

[cook_the_rude]

"It's not meant to be easy."

Lecter gently pushes the onions into the sizzling olive oil.

[collects_strays]

After a moment, he only answers -

"I know."

[cook_the_rude]

"You're doing very well, Will," Lecter says, stirring.

[collects_strays]

Graham looks up to him, but doesn't reply.

He stays still at the counter for another moment, before moving to take one of the cups of coffee.

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter smiles.

"Can you pour me one as well?" he says, adding the peppers, and still stirring.

[collects_strays]

He still doesn't say anything.

But shortly after, he sets the other cup down on the counter, next to Hannibal.

[cook_the_rude]

"Thank you, Will," Hannibal says. He takes a deep sip from his coffee before he continues, "Can you chop the parsley and the cilantro?"

Pause.

"I'll give you something to take home to the dogs, too. They must have such a fright from Randall."

[collects_strays]

Graham takes a sip from his own cup, and moves back to the cutting board.

"They don't like intruders," he mutters.

[cook_the_rude]

"Dogs usually don't," Hannibal says.

He adds the tomatoes now.

"For many people, that's the point of keeping a dog. But yours must be very upset that they couldn't keep the danger away. I hope none of them got hurt?"

[collects_strays]

He puts off answering, as he picks up the knife again, and starts chopping through cilantro.




"Buster had a - scratch along his shoulder."

He stops, swipes the knife clean.

"It wasn't deep. I bandaged it before I left."

[cook_the_rude]

"What a bold little fellow, to defend you like that," Hannibal says. "I'll pack a little something extra for him. Dogs enjoy good food as much as we humans do, and yours have always been very grateful."

[collects_strays]

He finishes chopping, sliding the cutting board aside again.

"Sometime," he says, slowly, "you could show me how to make that."

[cook_the_rude]

"Gladly," Lecter says. "They deserve the best."

[collects_strays]

Graham sets the knife down aside the cutting board. For a moment, he watches the light reflect off it, but he doesn't speak.

Instead, he reaches for the coffee again.

[cook_the_rude]

"I like your dogs very much, you know," Hannibal says.

He takes the eggs, one by one, throws them up, cracks them with the knife as they come down, and catches the empty shells before they're even near the pan.

[collects_strays]

"Why?"

It's quiet, but there's nothing to soften the bluntness of it. The dogs were decently-trained, but even the most well-trained left a mess of shed hair, odor, and excrement. They were content without 'the best,' their predatory instincts having been tamped down with the promise of other rewards. They roamed freely through his house, knocking things over, sometimes scratching at the floors, coming close to having the run of the place.

And maybe worst of all, they fractured Graham's affections, away from anything else. They still felt like the antithesis to Dr. Lecter.

[cook_the_rude]

"I like dogs," Hannibal says, stirring the pan. "They're honest and appreciative. And yours are a pack, interacting on their own and regarding you as their leader. It's a fascinating constellation."