"Caught me."

The filing cabinet's screech was almost earsplitting in the enclosed space; Mary Dahl, chin up, hands raised in the laziest approximation of surrender ever seen this side of the continent, felt the metal vibrate against her shoulder blades.

She hadn't found what she was looking for. In fact, if you'd asked her specifically what she had been looking for, she mightn't have been able to give a straight answer — had only been taking the fleeting opportunity to look around, to file things away in her mind for later use and later deals.

this is not where he wants to be. being on the run from the police while injured is bad enough, and hiding is difficult as it is. but injured on top of it? it's not the first time waylon has found himself in this kind of situation; it won't be the last. still, it's not something that ever gets any easier. it's not something that gets to be fun after a while. and this time, he doesn't know the territory. he doesn't have the advantage of a labyrinthian array of sewer tunnels to aid in his escape. this time it's just the overturned prison transport vehicle on the side of the highway, a couple of dead cops, and his own instincts.

which is what brings him here --- some unassuming apartment complex. looking for a way to orient himself to his surroundings, come up with some kind of plan. maybe find something to staunch the flow of blood from his shoulder. at least he's not hungry on top of it all.

but he hadn't exactly planned on being noticed. shit.

waylon tenses when the man reaches for what's probably a gun, letting out a low, rumbling growl. but there's no weapon there, no bullets come, and the growl fades into a reptilian hiss. don't think he isn't watching every move, every little flinch. he's an ambush predator when he wants to be.

" the kind you ain't gonna wake up from if you start screamin'. "

a man surrounded by what is familiar. an entire home designed to PREVENT surprises, with windows peering out into the world more than the world peers in. an intrusion approaches, blinding headlights into his safe haven. will is already on his front porch, slipping on his winter coat and squinting against the harsh light in a futile effort to spot the driver.

the ignition turns over, the car door shuts. at least will knows him. finally, the trespasser is revealed and will's brow creases, his body language stiff— a blank canvas, open for interpretation, void of any tells, and yet, for that very reason, EERIE.

@kingofdisrepute sent: ∗ 11﹕ sender  runs  their  fingers  through  receiver’s  hair

THE FEELING OF PARALYZATION IN THE WAKE OF SALVATION became a reality encompassed beneath a veil of undesirable circumstance when looking towards the circumference of emotional clarity. Still feeling a sense of insecurity that weighed heavily on the brink of what should have been an accomplishment for what's been discovered and yet, something was missing. More information needed to ensure the structure of something that could have so easily been seen had they looked hard enough for it. She feels like a failure, losing her touch, something undescribed and unwilling to be verbally admitted. The touch of fingers through her hair is almost met with a hint of a flinch as an automatic response, because she hadn't expected it, not from him. Or anyone. But she understands it is a caring gesture of recognition and so, she allows it, leans into it even to the slightest degree. A comforting form of what she didn't know she needed in that moment from someone who was probably feeling the same way she was. How did they not see it all before—? How did they not pinpoint it directly at the source the way they should have—? Hannibal was clever in knowing the ins and outs of how they all ticked; how they thought, the methods used.

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚇-𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚂 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂

paul is deep in thought as he scrolls through news articles on his phone. he shouldn't be doing this here , on his own personal mobile , but he hadn't had time to catch the latest news on the murdered girl that morning ( thanks to his wife needing help with the kids ). so that's what he's doing now.

tearing his attention from the screen , it takes him several beats to realize that someone is speaking to him. his gaze locks on the man before him , annoyed at the interruption but trying not to let his mask slip.

movie recs from my watchlist / @kingofdisrepute

operation avalanche (2016, dir. matt johnson)