Will nods once, very slightly, to let Hannibal know his message has been received. When they debark the plane they stay one after the other, but once they enter the flow of passengers heading toward customs, Will slows his pace until he's a few meters behind Hannibal, suddenly adopting the persona of a man who traveled all the way from the United States along, demeanor weary, eyes down and shoulders hunched.
Standing in line, he doesn't pay any attention to Hannibal, pretends he doesn't know him. He's too far away to hear what Hannibal tells his customs agent, but it's probably better that way, his own mind clear when he's finally called up to the counter himself. He tells the agent he's here for a conference for his university in Maryland, a small gathering of professors who are interested in doing an international exchange in criminology. He sticks with what he knows in case the agent asks questions, but she seems overworked and bored, stamps his passport without really hearing a word he says.
He strides toward the duty-free like it's just a direction he's walking in, and the noise around him not is almost all French now, peppered with a dozen other languages Will recognizes but doesn't understand. He slips into the shop and doesn't look for Hannibal, rather just heads toward the selection of liquor, knowing he'll find Hannibal there already, choosing a bottle or two of wine.
Rounding a corner, he spots Hannibal, head down reading the labels of the bottles in front of him. "See anything good?" Will asks, his tone easy but tired, easily a fellow traveler, a stranger, or maybe this man's paramour.
no subject
Standing in line, he doesn't pay any attention to Hannibal, pretends he doesn't know him. He's too far away to hear what Hannibal tells his customs agent, but it's probably better that way, his own mind clear when he's finally called up to the counter himself. He tells the agent he's here for a conference for his university in Maryland, a small gathering of professors who are interested in doing an international exchange in criminology. He sticks with what he knows in case the agent asks questions, but she seems overworked and bored, stamps his passport without really hearing a word he says.
He strides toward the duty-free like it's just a direction he's walking in, and the noise around him not is almost all French now, peppered with a dozen other languages Will recognizes but doesn't understand. He slips into the shop and doesn't look for Hannibal, rather just heads toward the selection of liquor, knowing he'll find Hannibal there already, choosing a bottle or two of wine.
Rounding a corner, he spots Hannibal, head down reading the labels of the bottles in front of him. "See anything good?" Will asks, his tone easy but tired, easily a fellow traveler, a stranger, or maybe this man's paramour.