"Thank you, Dr. Lecter. Truly," she said, her voice softening as she reached for the cup. She took a sip, the warmth grounding her. "And please, call me Celeste."

When his fingers brushed her shirt, a touch so light it could have been accidental, yet so deliberate it felt intentional, a tiny, electric jolt went through her. She felt the heat of him and she didn’t mind it one bit. Hannibal was quite handsome and from what she's been told, a brilliant mind. What wasnot to like?

She turned her chair slightly toward him, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of a new collaborator. "My family roots are actually quite scattered, but the name is a legacy from my grandmother's side," she explained

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, mindful of the officers passing by.

"You're right. The lack of transparency is... frustrating. But if we can't see the full picture, we have to build the pieces ourselves." She pointed to the board, her finger hovering over a Polaroid of the second victim. "The second case is the key, Dr. Lecter. The killer didn't just strike; they performe. It wasn't just about the kill; it was about the ritual."

Celeste leaned back, running a hand through her hair, the gesture revealing exhaustion beneath her enthusiasm. "Three victims, four months. If we're lucky, we have time to catch them before they strike again. If we're not..."

The whole time that she was talking, Hannibal was looking at ‘her’ instead of the pictures. The way she lights up, eyes shining when she goes briefly through explaining the cases to him. She painfully reminds him of Mischa, the way she used to look up at Hannibal like he was the only star in her sky, her big brother. Always soling problems, always looking after her until it was too late…

“if the place forces you into picking a bad habit then you should change it when you’re on the break.” The doctor dares to reach across the desk, tip of his fingers caressing Celeste’s sleeve, as if he’s approaching with caution before gliding down to gently brush a thumb on top of her hand, lips stretched in a closed-lips smile “allow me to take you away for awhile. I saw a nice diner not too far from here, we can walk there and you can tell me all your theories and plans on our way.” It’ll be less than half an hour drive though hopefully he can get enough privacy and time with Celeste to see what she really is, what she’s really hiding. wearing the mask of innocence, maybe she really is naïve.. or maybe just running from some past, darkness following her closely_

“yall getting friendly already?” the lieutenant Boschert knocked on the ajar door, peeking inside with a meaningful smile “Celeste, that Forensic guy Andy wants to see you, telling it’s important for the case.” He shakes his head “youngsters, so energetic over nothing. Keep this up and we’ll see where you’ll end up at your forties.” The man turns to leave, leaving the two alone once again.

Hannibal hasn’t moved his hand even after the unpleasant interruption. Though Celeste might not be so interested in leaving the department now that there’s some newly found lead waiting here for her to see.

"You can turn around if you're so eager to, but I'm going to take a look." Lucy wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if she just ignored someone who was calling out for help. For her own peace of mind, she wanted to check, and if it turned out to be one big ruse to lure in unsuspecting travelers, then they could decide how to deal with it.

Which would probably involve lots of shooting. Or stabbing? Lucy still wasn't used to the violence that the wasteland brought out in everybody and the most effective way to carry it out.

"Look, this is important to me, okay? You can't tell me that you didn't used to check on people when you first started traveling." There was a huge difference between them when it came to life experience, so this was her way of learning everything that he already had. He couldn't blame her for not being on the same level as him when he'd had a massive head start.

Lucy began to climb over some of the rubble, looking for the best way to navigate. Whatever this building used to be, it was destroyed beyond recognition. There was an arch that might have been a doorway at one point, but it was blocked by debris that they wouldn't be able to get past.

"I have to wonder why people hunker down in places like this, though. Unless they had no other choice. It's just so... unwelcoming." And it wasn't as if it provided a lot of shelter or concealment from passing threats what with all the holes and ruined walls. Which probably meant it really was a trap. Oh well, they were already this far, so why not just see it through?

Cooper squints his eyes “no, never even once in my whole life. What’s the point of ‘checking in something’ when I’m aware it’ll be all bad news at the end- wait, where you think you’re going? Hey! Vaultie!” but Lucy has to turn in middle of his very important speech to run toward the noise source with Dogmeat running happily after her like they’re both on some kind of happy explore and not a suicide attempt.

“hey! Vaultie don’t you go in there!” Cooper yells after them again but she’s disappeared through the gap between walls, going in a building that if not the danger inside, the ceiling sure threats to crash their bones if they move the wrong piece of whatever that’s holding it up. With a sigh, Cooper follows after her. shoulders dropped and mumbling complains with himself.

Inside, the air smells…familiar. Like there might be ghouls nearby. He calls for the girl again but she’s definitely deep in the belly of it that she can’t hear him. At this point she’s either right in middle of the trap or probably Cooper has to pull her out from the locked teeth of some feral ghoul so he walks deeper in the building, tracing after Lucy’s faint smell. Hands on his guns and ready to aim.

The pain soon forgotten as he picked her up like she was a feather swooped up by the wind. Hands moved up his arms to feel his form and strength, pinned beneath him and her breaths shallow as she anticipated what was to come since nothing had been what she expected so far. Then again he was an unusual man. Fingers crawled to feel his neck and hair as he spoke against her skin, his words echoing in her mind, “Yours.”

She felt cold when her clothes were torn and he moved away enough to undress, aching to feel his weight on top of her again, a wish soon granted when she felt his tongue on her nipple again a gentle sting in the small cut. Small pants were stopped by a gasp when she felt his finger enter her and breath stolen when he kissed her. Holding onto him her legs remained spread as her mind was torn between trying to focus on his kissing and finger inside of her.

There were words she was trying to utter as a response but they all turned to soft moans and whimpers as he added more fingers, spreading her and making her feel parts of herself she didn’t know existed. And wondering what it would feel like once he took her for himself fully. “I… I, ah…”.

“are you completely sure of it, my darling?” the count kisses that sweet mouth fiercely “because there won’t be coming back nor you can stop me from taking you..” he rips the fingers out, the thing layer of virgin blood webbed between his long finger and the count licks at them to taste the sweet nectar, humming in appreciation “what a delicious meal, so good for me, so good…”

With a growl, he tosses the young bride on the bed just to pounce on her, long, sharp claws holding onto her ankles to spread them open wide for the dark prince to dive between those milky thighs, lapping up everything she gives her with such a thirst that tears an animalistic snarl from his dry throat. “mine! Mine!!”

The count speaks in foreign, old languages. Words hushed quietly, like a mantra for preparing a sacrifice in the name of Satan himself but it’s better, much better. He bends her in half to have her legs framing that beautiful hole, glistening under the moonlight pouring in their room.

His movement is rushed, grabbing himself with one hand and sitting back to enjoy the sight the princess made, beautiful, innocent and open like this and the count just wants to devour her like a wild animal feasting on his prey.

“now hush, my dear.. you’ll feel the pain but it’ll turn into the sweet pleasure in no time, I’ll take care of you. I promise..” the count leans over her lithe body, kissing her lips as he glides his hard, pulsing member inside her tight warmth. Feeling the resistance of the young body, the way she tries to squeeze him out. a deep grown escapes him, fangs on full display as he tosses his head back, loving the sensation… been missing this for decades and now his lover is back again in his arms…

“my sweet, precious princess. You are wonderful_” voice cut with a growl, the count forces her legs up, toes pinned by her ears as he thrusts his way deeper, relentlessly moving his hips, demanding entrance inside her small, fragile body. “you take me so good.. you were made for me” he whispers darkly, sharp claws returns back to spread her folds wider. More blood oozing out yet he’s just half way in.

"You must be Dr. Lecter! I'm Celeste.. Celeste Arlen." She shook his hand firmly but gently "I've been pulling together everything we have so far. I know Boschert said you'd be coming, and honestly? Having someone with your expertise is..." She caught herself, cheeks coloring slightly. She's never worked with a Doctor by herself before. Her former partner handled everything, all she had to do was watch ."Sorry, I'm rambling. Come in, sit down. I'll show you what I've got."

She pulled a second chair closer to her desk, the one usually occupied by her partner before he transferred and began gathering her notes into a coherent order. Her hands moved quickly, arranging case photos and timelines into a visual spread that was impressively detailed for someone who'd only been assigned to the case a few hours ago.

"The first three victims all lived within a fifteen-mile radius, but the geographic dispersion has expanded over the past month," she explained, pinning a map to the board behind her. Red dots marked each incident location. "What's interesting is the shift in methodology between victims two and three. First one was blunt force trauma.... Second involved staged scene elements that pointed to someone who wanted us to think it was a burglary gone wrong." She traced the lines connecting the dots. "Third was... different. More intimate violence. Which tells us either we're dealing with multiple offenders, or one person who is rapidly decompensating."

She turned to him, blue eyes bright with intellectual energy. "So...where do you think we start?"

Indeed, she looks too young to be assumed she got accepted between these buffoons calling themselves ‘force’. The sparkles in her eyes, the faint rose blush dusting her freckled face didn’t go missing from Hannibal’s eyes. A small smile sits at the corner of his lips, carrying it over smoothly by placing his own steaming coffee on her desk, offering a peaceful gift.

“miss Arlen, pleasure to meet you. Your boss mentioned all good things about you, saying you’re one of gifted ones.” He did not but Hannibal can’t help to boost the girl’s ego with a harmless lie that her coworkers actually talk nicely behind her back. That boss of hers should appreciate such young talents more.

The board behind her desk is filled with many notes, scribbles and Polaroids pinned on the sheet and connected by a thin string, some of them have circles around and some others are marked by an X on them, deleted from the theory.

Hannibal hums as she fills him in “any clue of something that can connect them together? or..someone?” taking the seat she politely pulled over to sit by her side. She smells fresh, fruity scent..unlike of what he thought about her. just getting a swift scan of her once she passes him to return to her own throne, Hannibal gently brushes fingers on her shirt. Just a small touch, to feel her body heat closely.

ph. Danko Maksimovic - Palermo, Sicily (2026)

There was no will or desire to fight it, his hold or his push although there was a slight anxiety in her chest as items hit the floor and she lost all orientation of where she was except in his arms. What took all her attention was him and his touch. It was like nothing before, unexpected and rough. Or perhaps hunger, something that had hidden inside of him for a long time and was desperate to get out. After all he’d been married before, longing for someone to be, someone to have wasn’t unexpected.

It wasn’t until she felt his fingers in her hair that the confusion burned away, shivers travelling down her neck and a gasp escaping her lips as she felt his kissing her neck. The thought of his lips travelling lower to her chest crossed her mind when his hands pushed away her dress lapels but it was swiftly forgotten when he told her to tell him to stop.

And as God was her witness she didn’t want him to. After all they’d marry, they were already bound to each other by contract so was it really wrong to want each other?

His mouth leaving wet kisses, trailing down her body as he removes the top part of the dress, cupping her breasts and dropping kisses here and there. A small superficial vein catches the count’s attention and who’s he to refuse such an offering his princess so kindly laid down for him? The vampire bites onto the pearl globe, breaking skin only to drawl blood, dark at first then lightly flows over her pale skin, painting her beautifully.

The count groans upon tasting the sweet blood, the emulsion of life leaving the immortal vampire hungry for more. In one swift move, the count scoops the princess up in his arms, crossing the room to lay her gently between soft bedding. The dark, crooked figure of him looming over her soft, curved shape, caging the small sparrow in.

“I will make you mine tonight, my love.” Mumbling words of endearment in her skin, mouthing at the tender pulse on her neck lovingly “you’ll be such a lovely bride. My bride.. mine..” his sharp claws tearing at her skirt, leaving the rest of her dress hanging by her thighs, shredded fabrics falling around them on the floor, following after them the count sheds his cloak and the formal suit, the trousers are long gone, only the shirt before he has the princess pinned in the sheets again, lapping up the trickles of blood from the small incision over her breast.

His hand caresses her side, her hips, traces the curve of her back and thigh to where he meets the curly hair over her pelvises. Then, the fingers descend down.. down until he can sink the tip inside her too hot body. Stealing her breath with another kiss as he moves the digit in and out relentlessly.

“tell me how you feel, my love. Tell me how you want to be taken..” his other hand brushes the stray strands away from her forehead, planting a soft kiss there quite opposed to the movement between her legs, in rush and hungry. The finger becomes two, then three. Pistoling in and out with such obscenely loud, wet noise that almost drowns any other noises in the room. Even the outside completely forgotten... now all his attention is centered at just one place, just one person.

Instead, he nodded in return, smile still lingering, and crossed to the table laden with herbs and wild vegetables. It took only a moment to find the knife. While Bartosch hadn't exactly grown up working in kitchens, he'd had enough experience by now fending for himself to manage chopping without incident. He'd learned, at least, to cut stew ingredients into irregular pieces so they could cook better.

Bartosch's blade slowed almost to a pause when he noticed how careful Henry seemed in not brushing against him. Was that due to an absence of desire, or an abundance of it? Just when he'd assured himself about not overstepping, here this dear blacksmith was making Bartosch reconsider whether to bring up personal matters after all.

He could do this. The worst that could happen, he'd experienced his share of times before - even if it would sting sharper coming from Henry. But he could do this. He'd convinced an entire castle and even von Bergow of his death, and outlived the bastard to boot. "This might not be the best topic around blades and fire, but consider me... curious." A glance up toward the other man, then back down to finish cutting a slim bundle of coriander. "How do you see me, Henry? After all these years. ...I promise, though I treasure any touch from you, I'd never ask for anything you aren't willing to give me."

‘do you even love me, Henry?’ Margaret asked one morning, when Henry was-just like now- making them breakfast. He doesn’t remember what he said but he remembers her tears, her angry voice wavering ‘you’re scared. Scared to lose someone. You don’t want to open up to me because you like another one, don’t you, Hal? Oh you do! You still think about them!’

He begs her to stay, to give her another chance but she packs up that noon, leaves when sun sets in horizon with a kiss of goodbye pressed on Henry’s forehead, she smiled sadly ‘just..don’t let them go once you see them again. Keep them..’ her lips wobbling but refuses Henry’s touch when he moves to hug her ‘be honest with them..please. do this for me, Hal’

“I..” he stops in his track, the bowl in one hand and the spoon he used to stir in other one. “you..you..I thought..I..” he opens his mouth then closes it, blinking twice before setting the utensil and the bowl aside..only to reach out to hold the black knight’s hands in his.

“I thought you’ve moved on. Thought you don’t want to be with me anymore. I just..” he looks down at their intertwined hands, a small smile blooming on his lips “I didn’t want to move fast but I guess with a history like ours, moving fast doesn’t have a meaning. We..once were together. we wanted each other, didn’t we, my love?” slowly, he raises his head, their eyes meeting and Henry holds the gaze, wanting to say everything he couldn’t say in words by just his look.

“there..wasn’t even one single night I wouldn’t think of your touch, your warmth, your skin feeling against mine, the way I used to hold you when we were in private.. how much I desire your kisses..” by this, his eyes jump to Bartosch’s lips, wetting his own as if already feeling those pressed onto his own. Chapped, thin yet warm, burning hot and tasting like sweetest ale on his tongue.

What made them better than a common bandit? Nothing. Not even loyalty was real. Arthur knew that; that was his redemption -- he could finally accept the fact he was a bad man.

“what the_ are you- do you even think before you string words together?! redemption?! What kind of horseshit is that?! You nuts?!” his voice echoing around them in mountain, above, the grey clouds lighting up with blazing thunder. John suppresses a shiver, not from the cold.. but from the fear of Arthur is really going to leave him for real this time. Not like leaving for few months, God, he’d always come back! He’s.. he can’t do this!

I told you to run. 

Lily paused for a moment, then shook her head and tried to refocus. Clean the wound, bandage it well enough so they could get out of here, make his life hell on earth for letting himself get shot and... His voice threw her off balance again. “Sorry.” The word was so quiet that it was easy to miss. She didn't really want to hurt him. No matter how angry she was with him, he was already in pain.

“The good news is,” she continued, even though he showed no interest in answering her question, “there's a chance you'll survive and continue to act like a boss.” Lily rummaged through her backpack again, ignoring the fact that she was generously spreading blood, his blood, in the process. “The bad news is,” she tore open another pack of gauze, then pulled a strip of tape from a roll, “you'll be forever in my debt for saving your ass.” As she turned back to him and was about to get started, it was his voice again that made her hesitate.

She ignored the woman. Damn it, she would deal with her later.

But his words, that undertone. Lily slid a little closer to his face, took his chin in a surprisingly soft grip, and turned his head so that he had no choice but to look her straight in the eyes. “I'm not leaving you behind.” She allowed him and herself only a brief pause to emphasize her words, because he was right about one thing. They were coming. The undead were already on their way. “It's going to hurt to walk. You'll probably lose more blood before I have a chance to take care of it properly. But I swear by every fucking god humanity has ever thought of, you're not going to die here in this place. Do you understand me?”

She didn't wait for an answer, but slid back to her original spot and began applying a pressure bandage. “This is going to hurt,” she muttered warningly before securing the gauze and tape as tightly as she could. “Fabric,” she barked over her shoulder to the woman and her brother. Why they were still there was a mystery to her, and how they could understand what Lily wanted from them was even more so. But she could worry about that later. Every second counted. That's why she hadn't wasted any time removing the shrapnels. Of course, they could move as soon as he moved. But if she removed the shrapnels, he could bleed even more. She preferred to have more time to take to her heels and get out of there. Was she already hearing the croaking of the walkers?

“yeah, you say that like it’s so easy to do..” but he does try to stand, wincing in his effort “Goddamn.. you’re going to regret not leaving me behind!” and finally, he’s up on his legs. The little boy finds a wooden stick, probably once was part of the railing and offers it to Daryl which, he takes with muttering a ‘thank you’ to him before he runs back to his sister’s side.

“alright” he sighs “since I’m useless now, guess you’re going to get us out of here, miss.” Addressing lily. Deep down, he’s thankful for her good heart. Anyone else would leave him alone here to die or fight his way out of this mess but not Lily. She just got a good soul, helping people. she didn’t even shoot the stranger lady when she went looking for her which says a lot about her character.

“this way, I know a shortcut.” The stranger girl says, ushering them to a path made by few concretes falling over each other, creating a gap.

“we have a vehicle nearby, came here to look for gas.” She explains in rush as their small group runs down the small aisle, Daryl’s cane tapping on the marble, dirty floor.

“if you trick us, this time there won’t be no forgive and forget.” He grunts, stealing a glance from his company by his side. To be honest he’s worried more for Lily than himself so whoever this girl is, she must behave if she wants to tag along.

“I don’t think you’re in shape to make threats, old man.” The woman replies jokingly, pushes a fallen crate out of the way.

“not me but she can.” He nods to Lily, glaring daggers at the stranger. Believe me, she can shoot you in a blink and doesn’t care. Alright, maybe Lily would hesitate but the stranger should buy this enough to not even think about ditching or stealing from them.

An embattled mahogany gaze LIFTS to his. Immediately, Natasha regrets it. Being physically SLAPPED would sting far less than this. Inside of her chest, she feels as if her ribcage is splitting open like an expertly cracked egg, leaving her heart to bleed out. And the agony will not abate, not for a lifetime. She is to occupy another's bed, to bear his children, to pay him every sort of lip service imaginable. Yet, here he is. The only one she CRAVES to surrender to. He makes her feel safe, secure.

The brunette feels like she can DROWNED in the turmoil that the situation has caused. "I'm sorry," it's all quivering lips can offer. A terrible step is taken aback as she internally weighs his offer. Adrenaline pulses through her veins. For a moment, the thunder inside of her threatens to hinder her ability to think. To runaway would be an awfully big adventure. Running her fingers gingerly over her lip, she summons up the courage to speak. "Runaway and do what?" She whispers in question. Then without giving him a chance to answer, she asks, "where would we go, that we would not be hunted down?" Though she ought not to, her hand reaches out to curl about his arm. Maverick's one of the best in the Military.

“hunted down?!” repeating her word with shocked voice, Bradley’s eyes follow Phoenix as she moves about, nervously pulling and pushing him “okay, I need you to slow down! I think you’re uh.. I’m getting a little confused in here, hunting down? yeah, Mav is waiting for me to make a run so he can chase after me with his jet, sure.” Smiling despite the current situation of his agitated partner “babe, you’re over thinking! We’ll be fine, I’m sure Mav will understand..” grimacing as the imaginary Mav shapes in his mind, frowning deep and looking disappointed “..some day I guess!”

“standing in my- okay, that’s it! Nat, I want you to stop it here and now!” the taller aviator reaches out to hold onto Phoenix’s arms, keeping her pinned, meeting her frantic gaze with his much calm one though the feeling is getting to him, too. This anxious, desperate sense of losing someone while you can do nothing except watching them go, wishing them a good life…