thestagsmind
& Hannibal's place was becoming quite a more familiar place to her, more so than the psychiatric facility, if she had to be honest. She was also starting to feel like he was her surrogate father, as well--he seemed to understand her, keep her secret.
Judging faces were frequently present there in the facility, especially from the staff who talk in mild, soft voices, as if afraid of breaking her, and condescending questions by her peers like if she kept her stained clothes.
She sips from a teacup, the calming chemicals of a gentle dose of a drug in her tea, settling on her tongue. It calmed her nerves, helped keep these nightmares at bay. Perhaps, not all, but it lessened them a little.
Settling it now carefully down on the platter on the table, she spoke, albeit a little slowly, as the drug started kicking in.
"...Hannibal...could I ask you something?"
