“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Abigail looked up from her coffee, blinking at Jack Crawford before nodding slowly. In truth, she was surprised he cared about her well-being at all, what with their rocky history. But she supposed that when it came to Hannibal Lecter, he was content to keep his enemies close, if only for the sake of “the good doctor’s” arrest.
“Call him,” she agreed. “Will’s testimony is just as important as mine, if not more important, so convince him of that. Just…don’t tell him I’m here.”
Jack frowned. “If I tell him the truth, Dr. Lecter won’t find out you’re alive.”
“Please…just don’t. Not yet.” Abigail didn’t trust that to be true. As often as she’d been sold down the river, it was difficult for her to trust anyone at all.
Expression grave, Jack nodded before lifting the phone to his ear. When he heard the telltale click of the line being answered, he said, “Will – it’s me, Jack. I trust you’ve gotten the Bureau letter requesting your attendance in court? I’d rather not subpoena you, but if I have to, I will. We’re counting on you to win this.”
Anxiously chewing on her thumbnail, Abigail’s brow creased as she tried to determine whether or not Jack would have a fight on his hands.
He sat outside a small cafe midtown, finding the early morning the most --- pleasant, being that the only people out and about were the working folks of the world. The ones that preferred briefcases and morning coffees over the luxury of sleeping in or any of the other pleasantries people like him were often robbed of; he was lucky enough to get a full nights sleep as it stood. So he joined the herd, or what was the start of it, and sat outside the small series of buildings in order... well, honestly, he didn’t know why he was here this early. Abigail liked to drink coffee, and she insisted they come by this morning to, quote, ‘Rise with the sun.’ And how could he refuse? The girl was important to him, more than she knew, and it’d be his fault if he didn’t listen to her request. So, he sat with her, lifting a half empty, hot cup of coffee, which was admittedly, drowning under a pile of whipped cream.
Mid-conversation with Abigail, his phone vibrated against his thigh inside his pocket, and he briefly pressed together his lips and set his cup aside. “ Speak of the devil, “ Will gave a tired smirk in Abigail’s direction, and he reached to answer his phone. He pressed it to his ear. “ Jack, “ he greeted with a slow inhale. Glancing towards a few people who walked past the road to his right, Will gave a brief clearing of his throat and listened to what jack had to say; about court, about his testimony. Raising his free hand, the agent rubbed tiredly at his forehead - tiredly, but roughly. “ ---- yes, Jack, “ he nodded, then looked to Abigail. “ I’ll be there. In fact, I will be --- back home, in less then twenty-four hours. Twenty-two if you pick me up at the airport, Jack. “
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