#drbloomsoffice

Alana cringes as Mason speaks. She can only imagine what Margot has had to endure over the years. “I’m sure she wishes the same,” Alana says curtly, as she watches him pour another drink with surprising control. “You say you love your sister, but why do you feel the need to control her? If you loved her wouldn’t giving her some freedom show her that?”

“I don’t say I love her -- I love her, alright?” he places the glass on the side-table with a sharp crack, a few drops slosh onto the back of his hand, “she has all the freedom she needs -- I look after her, where would she be without me, huh?”

He wants to get up and pace around the room, maybe stand over little Doctor Bloom, he’s so much taller than she is, and he knows how to be intimidating. But he feels wobbly even sitting down and has to settle for straightening in his chair.

Send a ✠ and a question and my muse will reply to it after drinking lots of alcohol.

“When me and Margot were little we got on a lot better -- like when there was a storm she’d come in my room because the thunder scared her but,” he sways in his seat, jaw slack and gaze abstracted, one hand lifts halfway to his face and then falls back into his lap.

“But when we turned sixteen I ... I did something and now she doesn’t like me any more -- see maybe I was a little rough, but I love her, and I know she loves me, but she just doesn’t like me now.”

For the next hour, my muse cannot tell a lie.

Mutals, send me a ”hey” and i’ll do this:

Hannibal had known Alana would be excited by the gift that he had graciously provided, but he did not think that she would become so excited that she would do this. Nonetheless, there was a benefit for Hannibal to draw from this, so rather than pushing Alana away, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him, returning her kiss, deepening it, treating her as though she was the only woman in that very moment in the world that they inhabited. 

He pulled back after a few moments, breaking the kiss, but still holding her in place. He looked down at her, one hand moving, rising to stroke her cheek. 

Hannibal looked at her, eyes only half open.

"I was getting there, myself." He replied softly.

"We’re close. Five more hours." He paused to push a lock of hair behind her ear.