#c. will

The house is ... confusing, at first.  The first few times she sees it because she can’t REMEMBER a house ever being there -- she’s stuck chasing TIME for a while.  Reconciling the edge of the treeline and the house ... the trees used to extend so much further ... it takes a very long time to get to the house.  She isn’t sure exactly how long ... 

But the LIGHTS are what draw her.  The lights that call across the vast dark of the empty, tree-less and bare field.  ( Like a little boat on the sea.  It drifts in the black. )  The dogs don’t like her at first -- they make an AWFUL racket when she comes to the door and lets herself in with a curiosity she needs to sate.  The dogs seem to confuse HIM too -- as their noise draws him forward to investigate and she studies him beyond his sight.  ( Oh, she must have inadvertantly WOKEN him.  Why are all the lights on then?  It’s late, isn’t it?  The moon is HIGH and nearly setting, dawn will be coming soon. ) 

He’s soft with the dogs, and she likes that.  She likes the dogs, too, she decides.  And the littlest one warms up to her first.  

-- She decides to stay.  She’s never belonged to a PLACE.  ( Or, not that she can remember. ) 

If he’s being honest with himself, he expected police presence.  He’d suspect Jack himself to be hiding somewhere among the brush and wilderness of Will’s cabin but he sees nothing, hears nothing, smells nothing -- nothing of any note.  He doesn’t knock -- doesn’t especially care if that’s rude.   Given the lack of attention to the place, he expects it to be empty ... imagine his surprise to find the door unlocked and someone still home. 

“ I shall assume from the furious stare you’re giving your tablet that it has gravely offended you ... that, or there’s been unpleasant news.  Tell me, how is miss lounds? “  He’s only just entered the kitchen -- if Will is aware of him, he hasn’t made any move to acknowledge his presence.  He wouldn’t be surprised if he were so engrossed in whatever he’s reading ( very likely tattlecrime, given the look of displeasure.  That particular brand miss freddie lounds seems so apt at pulling forth. ) but he knows they keep such a high alert to one another.  Always aware of the rotation of the other, their presence at the edge of the senses.  He wouldn’t be surprised if Will had been aware of him from the moment he’d risen from bed. 

He doesn’t know, REALLY, what to expect on the other side of the door.  He’s seen Will in varying degrees of ... mess, for lack of a better term.  Hair usually disheveled, unshaven, dark curls a wild halo around his features.  Seen him in a prison jumpsuit and baggy clothes that didn’t compliment his figure very well.  

This is ... a pleasant sort of surprise.  Hannibal can’t help the way his eyes sweep over Will’s figure to take in the new appearance, cleaner lines, hair trimmed and neatly swept back from his eyes, unruly curls tamed.  ( He reminds Hannibal of a Greek statue.  He’s struck by the urge to sketch this version of Will before he forgets -- the way he turns to face the door when it opens, the slight lift of his brow and the look of challenge and invitation of intrigue.  As if to say ‘look, look what I’ve done for you.’ ) 

They both know it’s equal parts manipulation and curiosity, don’t they ?