Hannibal the Cannibal {Dr Hannibal Lecter} (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
itrhymes) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixwordstories2015-02-22 08:10 pm
itrhymes) wrote in sixwordstories2015-02-22 08:10 pm(no subject)
What are you doing in here?
itrhymes) wrote in sixwordstories2015-02-22 08:10 pm
no subject
[Holding out her prize, she begins to descend, offering it to him once her feet are back on solid ground.] I figured with all the snow outside, a little Russian literature was more than fitting.
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[One brilliant green eye is burning brightly in that fanged steel face. He just wanted the valuables in here, he didn't expect to get caught. Well.. time to see if he can scare this human away]
Ya gotta problem with that, mac?
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And you?
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what an unusual tag! i assumed you were an au of still alive!mischa at first.
Have you been polishing your Russian at school then, daragaya?
I blame my emotional confusion caused by the cooking scenes on this show. Hopefully she amuses you.
So I'm afraid any polishing will have to be done on my own. With the help of Dr. Zhivago here, of course.
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But it just so happens that this face is standing in his living room. Near the corner where he knows his German grandfather clock with real silver pendulums and number plates sits, among other things. And are those his Italian candle holders, shifted over near the thief as if ready to be taken with him...?
Hannibal stands at the doorway to the living room, face impassive in the dim residual light from his hallway. He just got home. With a decisive motion, his hand goes for the lightswitch and bathes the room brightly.]
I'm afraid I do.
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He didn't ask because he could see Will yet. He could only smell him. By the echo of his voice, it sounds like he's on the upper library level.]
I have a theory. But theories can be colored by our own perceptions.
I'd like to hear your reason in your words.
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Tough shit, asshole, I ain't leavin' empty handed.
[Even if it just meant swiping something small and bolting for the door. Going back without something to show for his efforts never ended well]
Don't make me rough ya up, I ain't scared a'no squishy lil' meatsack.
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Shit.
She pushes her shoulder off of the wall, turning around to see the man that stands down the hall a few yards away. Tenou looks winded, perhaps a little disheveled, but from this distance, the most Lecter would be able to notice may be the scraping down her cheek and jaw. The lacerations on her arm are hidden underneath her school uniform's blazer, and thank goodness it's a dark brown. The blood shouldn't be too noticeable.
Blue eyes flick up to a clock on the wall, checking for the time. School let out just shy of an hour ago. Well, time flies when you're having fun. ]
I was just...on my way out. [ Haruka stands firmly, a few inches away from the wall, posture rigid. ] Track practice ran a little long. Guess I got carried away with myself.
i am wild and free and i flip coins for all my important decisions
But what caught the pinpoint of Hannibal's attention at first was the smell. He had gathered up the rest of his students' papers to correct at home, briefcase in his hand as he made to leave the school for the day - and been stopped by an invisible wall at the end of the science hallway. Copper and iron and the ammonia-tang of processed adrenaline. More blood than was acceptable during schoolyard tussles, surely, and this was all fresh - still flowing, still actively bleeding. If there was any that had dried, it was overpowered by the rest.
Now just what is the young track star doing here? Hannibal knows Haruka only tangentially, in that she attends the school he is teaching at in France. His career as a psychiatrist affords him more than enough money - but he gives back to the community, of course, and for the past two years has donated his time to a well-to-do private high school. They have several college-hybrid courses; he assists in a medical one.
Haruka, then. She's sporty but reserved; a terribly focused mind that isn't always focused on schoolwork exclusively, but which has never caused disruption. He has heard and observed very little about her.
Which makes this all the more intriguing. He watches her, dark leather briefcase in one hand, dark leather-and-stainless-steel container for lunch in the other. His expression is measured, attentive and concerned without seeming overwhelmed with caution.]
See that you're not injured before the season is fully underway. I understand you are the best chance the girls' track has of winning this year. [In French, his accent is a little less heavy than in English, but it still hangs from every word. Students rapidly learn that the accent is no indication of how expansive his actual understanding is; laziness in papers is absolutely not tolerated.]
Shall I walk you to the exit? I am on my way out.
did you have a particular point in canon you'd like to stick to?
I told you there would be a reckoning.
just as fate does
It's been fairly uneventful otherwise; Lecter is more akin to a finely-chiseled statue than anything else, congenial enough, yet there seems to be no transparency about him. Haruka hasn't even noticed a gap in his seams, no visible cracks in his stone visage. It's something she can kind of relate to.
Haruka has to be impressed, that Lecter suspects her facial injury is a result of excessive sportsmanship, and not some scuffle. Even with her attempt at deflecting certain potential questions, she still expected to get mother-henned. It's the typical treatment from other instructors, after all.
She has to refuse a grimace that tickles her cheeks when he asks to accompany her; in closer proximity, she may give more away than what she's comfortable with. Alas, it's even more suspicious to refuse.
She shrugs a stiff shoulder, while she slings her briefcase over her other shoulder. ] Fine by me.
[ There's a small commotion at the end of the hallway, behind Haruka, where this and another hall join. Two women, one recognizable as the nurse (and the other more probably a secretary than a teacher) come frantically into view as they shuffle in hurriedly.
'Excusez-moi!' they shout as they run past Tenou. One of them places a gentle hand on her upper arm, bracing each other from colliding. Thankfully, the older woman doesn't notice it when Harkua flinches against a visceral reaction to the searing pain that bursts against her skin. It cuts the student off from her barely budding thought, a wonder at what the excitement is all about, where are they rushing off to?
Though, Haruka might have a pretty good idea where they're hurrying off to, and why. ]
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Her injuries, he assumes, but then what's caused all this? Haruka is not known for getting into fights.
He's about to thank her, mouth open, before he has to redirect his attention to beyond Haruka. The nurse, a woman Lecter knows moderately well and has brought in lunches for on occasion, is accompanied by Madame Desjardins, one of the front office workers. They barrel past Haruka with ease, but Hannibal widens his stance and leans over to lightly touch the nurse's arm, demanding attention.]
Excusez-moi, Madame Boucher. [She pulls up short, glancing up at him in alarm. He allows a line to form between his eyebrows, a small measure of concern dotting his face.] Do you need assistance? Has something happened?
[Clearly, something has. And considering the smell of blood on the air, he's very curious as to what.]
oh hello again
She collapsed outside! A groundskeeper called me, he found her behind the boating house--
She's unresponsive, he said, but we called an ambulance, we were going down to assist until they arrive...
[ Damn it. Haruka works to keep her face neutral as the nurse and secretary trip over each other to speak, but she steps quietly backward and out of the vicinity of the small conglomeration of faculty members until the hallway breaks its course with a perpendicular path. With the nurse out of her office, Haruka toys with the idea of sneaking in and grabbing some provisions to tend to her wounds.
Unfortunately... It's awfully far away, and to get there without being seen would require a convoluted path. Ah, but this is the science wing. The labs will have first aid kits in the event of accidents. Good.
As quietly as she can, Haruka moves quickly down the hall, voices growing distorted with distance as they lose their finesse during their travel bouncing along walls and the tile floor. Laboratoire 01. The door is not locked, likely left by the usual instructor who inhabits this lab on a regular basis, out of convenience for himself and the nightly cleaning people. She slips inside.
As soon as she deposits her briefcase aggressively onto the instructor's desk, she hurriedly opens cabinets along the far wall. Books, beakers, more beakers, goggles, protective gloves -- then she sees it: a chemical emergency station sits attentive with a sink, shower, and -- yes, a first aid kit, right on the wall. Off comes the blazer, white shirt sleeve stained gruesomely with fresh blood, just before she begins to rummage through the box for wrappings. ]