Chapter 6
Jack blustered for about 15 minutes, turning an interesting shade of purple. Will looked at Hannibal, who sat passively, as if he were watching a movie. There was the barest curl in his lip, the only sign that he was annoyed at his current circumstances. After a few more moments, he sat back, crossing his legs. Will watched in awe as he transformed himself into the most powerful creature in the room by simply shifting a few muscles.
“Jack, I must ask, what is the end goal of this?”
Jack stuttered to a stop. He turned to Hannibal, confused. “What?”
“Am I to understand you no longer wish me to consult with the FBI?”
Jack glowered. “No. I just-”
“Because if I’m somehow besmirching the name of the BAU, I completely understand. I will go back to private practice and count this as an adventure I will cherish.” Hannibal held out his hands in apparent supplication. Will adjusted his posture, not quite as commanding as Hannibal’s, but no longer curling in on himself.
“Surely you can see the cloud this puts over the department!” Jack banged a hand on his desk. “The implication that a consultant is...”
“Friendly?” Will suggested. Hannibal smiled just slightly, eyes still on Jack.
“Fucking!” Jack pointed to the TattleCrime homepage. “THE IMPLICATION IS YOU ARE FUCKING YOUR PSYCHIATRIST!”
“I’m not,” Will said simply.
“And even if he were,” Hannibal leaned forward. It was Will’s turn to bite back a grin. “I’m not his psychiatrist. As you yourself have confirmed several times to official channels and in the press.”
“The ethical concerns-”
“Are bigger if you throw a fit.” Will pulled his glasses off, folded them, and placed them in the pocket of his shirt. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his curls back. He could feel Hannibal's eyes on him but kept his focus. “If the head of the BAU is heard screaming at us. If he sends out a press release denying something. Well then, that’s a story.”
“IT IS ALREADY A GODDAMN STORY!”
“Right now, it’s up there with Elvis being sighted at a supermarket,” Will waved his hand dismissively at the computer monitor.
“Really? Which supermarket?”
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