There are many meanings and a lot of promise in Hannibal's smile, in the words he carefully says in reply. Will is already starting to feel the itch of impatience now that they've gotten this far, secure in the knowledge that the few important loose ends will be tied up in the next couple of days. His mind is already hours and miles ahead, anxious to learn what Hannibal has waiting for them on the other side. He knows there will be lodging ready, and at least a few days spent laying low to be sure that their scent has been scattered well enough that Jack's bloodhounds won't be able to track them down.
Hannibal has done everything he can to ensure their departure is as invisible as possible, but there are, of course, factors beyond his control. They'll buy their plane tickets with the cash in Hannibal's folder, but that in of itself will be unusual, which means they need to be otherwise as unmemorable as they can. Which means, at least until they're safely on the airplane, they'll need to stringently avoid physical contact, or any telling topics of conversation.
Will's mind is swirling with possibilities, thoughts about architecture and public transportation, of markets and cafes, of the ways Hannibal might indoctrinate Will into his darker rituals, how they'll engage in them together. And of course this newest facet of their partnership, the physical desire that Will has felt burning just under the surface of his skin since they crossed the threshold into Hannibal's bedroom hours ago. There are so many new pleasures in which they'll partake together, but the one most insistent in Will's mind is the basest of them all.
"Tell me about where we'll be staying in Paris," Will says, needing something concrete to occupy his mind lest his imagination get the better of him. His body has already begun reacting in sympathy to his cursory thoughts; anything more detailed will only aggravate the situation to the point of being outwardly noticeable.
no subject
Hannibal has done everything he can to ensure their departure is as invisible as possible, but there are, of course, factors beyond his control. They'll buy their plane tickets with the cash in Hannibal's folder, but that in of itself will be unusual, which means they need to be otherwise as unmemorable as they can. Which means, at least until they're safely on the airplane, they'll need to stringently avoid physical contact, or any telling topics of conversation.
Will's mind is swirling with possibilities, thoughts about architecture and public transportation, of markets and cafes, of the ways Hannibal might indoctrinate Will into his darker rituals, how they'll engage in them together. And of course this newest facet of their partnership, the physical desire that Will has felt burning just under the surface of his skin since they crossed the threshold into Hannibal's bedroom hours ago. There are so many new pleasures in which they'll partake together, but the one most insistent in Will's mind is the basest of them all.
"Tell me about where we'll be staying in Paris," Will says, needing something concrete to occupy his mind lest his imagination get the better of him. His body has already begun reacting in sympathy to his cursory thoughts; anything more detailed will only aggravate the situation to the point of being outwardly noticeable.