#feelingunstable

I haven't, I have done things, just not as much as I wished.

Will Graham needed to feel distracted, and he didn’t knew how he ended in a strip club with a glass of expensive whiskey. Sitting on a red couch with his legs opened, arms resting on his thighs while holding the glass. Like staring at the back of the scenario, almost ignoring the half naked dancers.

Well, what the hell, is not going to do anything bad. He wasn’t the kind of men who frequented that kind of places, but it wasn’t his first time going there, maybe his fifth time in his entire life?

Just look. Drinking until to feel empty, even more, stare half naked women and feel miserable. But this time it was a gay club. Why not to change? Maybe it would make him to feel a reaction. The distraction that he needed.

He didn’t claimed himself gay, nor bisexual, he wasn’t sure about that. He felt attraction towards women and maybe for a few man. It rather could be called admiration? Envying their stability? Yes, he thought it was that.

His own physic was fine for him, he felt good with himself. He didn’t wanted to have hard abs, nor a toned body completely shaved more proper to a metro sexual guy. The agility of someone able to climb by a pole like if he had the weigh of a feather. Nor a perfect legs of a dancer, or a broad chest and strong arms. Like those of the dancer on the scenario. 

Bringing the edge of the glass to his lips he sipped, looking at the dancer through his glasses of professor. It felt more bitter than before. His eyebrows narrowed. The music made a hollow effect on his head. Like drowning under the water of the sea. He licked his lips tasting it.  It felt familiar. More than familiar. He felt that sensation that he had experienced so many times.

Old but beautiful hands gripping the edge of a chair while spinning around it until to sit there. Familiar hands. He had seen those hands. He have seen those small movements camouflaged with the dance. Analysand glances. A fine nose locating him among the rest of beings. It was like if each of his breathing’s were heard by him.

His heart racing, no one more existed, no one more but himself and the dancer on the scenario. He found him interesting. Why? It felt like a crime scene displayed specially for him.

        What are you doing?

He asked at him, like if mind could talk, staring straight to Dr. Lecter’s eyes when they aligned with them.

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Hannibal's life was secret, and very few people knew what he did in his spare time. For those who did know, the information that they were aware of was selective and limited. One would know that he enjoyed collecting details regarding church collapses where another would know only that he enjoyed the opera. There were very few that knew more than one activity Hannibal used to pass the time time, and now, he had arrived at a rather unusual point in his life. 

Will Graham was in the club. Will Graham knew a myriad of details of Hannibal's life in his spare time, and now he was about to know even more. 

Now Hannibal had two choices, he could disappear and hope that Will did not find him, or he could face the situation dead on with determination and do what he was paid for. 

He was going to put a smile on Will Graham's face. 

Will was sitting there, and it appeared to all the world that he was in a daze of some kind, perhaps he had consumed too much alcohol. Hannibal knew him well enough to know otherwise, Will was in thought, and Hannibal had to wonder exactly what he was thinking about. 

He worked his way around the room, slipping between the other dancer's, acknowledging potential clients as he went, before closing in on the one man in his whole world that Hannibal could call a friend. 

He did his thing, as he did so very well, and he slipped onto Will's knee, one hand resting on the arm of the chair, the other on Will's shoulder. Their gazes locked, and Hannibal cocked his head to the side a mere fraction, his lips twitching. 

Hannibal paused and turned on his heel to face Will in the bed, his shirt and pants already on and fully zipped and buttoned up. He was in the process of securing his tie and had started heading towards the door when he had been called back. 

Send me a [≈] and my muse will kiss yours. On the lips.