Oh. That does make sense. If he was medicating her. Was he medicating her? Or, wait, maybe just monitoring how often he dosed her with Pewter? The concept of bedsores doesn't even occur to Neph, as Pewter's always healed abrasions faster than they can open up. This time, with her healing abilities preoccupied by her fucked up arm and bruised ribs, there might not have been any energy to spare.
She doesn't answer Hannibal, because she's too busy watching Hannibal. He doesn't flinch when she says Will's name, doesn't tense up or scowl the way she'd expect if Will had broken up with him and limped back to their busted apartment. He just tidies up the nightstand and finds a space on the mattress beside her. He ends up sitting near her shoulder, which Neph decides she doesn't like. It's not what she wants. She lets go of his hand, plants her palm by his hip, and heaves. The sudden motion yanks the IV and rattles its stand. Her arm shakes, lax muscles trembling as they re-engage after a long rest, but they're enough to get her up far enough to lean her head on Hannibal's shoulder. Then she takes his hand back. A dribble of blood seeps out from beneath the IV tape, ignored.
He's warm as a sunbaked rock from his shower, skin still a little sticky with heat. She's so cold, she just wants to plaster herself to his back and doze back off. Neph presses her cheek against the bony spur of his collarbone and sighs through her nose. Did he--wait--she knows that smell. That green, herbal smell. He totally grabbed his own soap from their bathroom, didn't he?
The familiar scent, the seeping warmth and her own burst of energy combine to leave her all pliable and dumb. That's what she'll tell herself later, when Hannibal prods at her about Will, and she lets the most painful truth slip in answer: "You're pretty much the only person who's ever stuck by what they promised me," she mumbles against his skin. "I don't--I don't blame him, s'prob'ly smarter an' safer for him not 'ta be 'round us, but..."
But he'd promised. And then he'd joked with her until she'd passed out. He was probably in shock at the time. Promises made when a person's lost that much blood don't count, and he's had five whole days to realize that. He must'a left really early on for Hannibal to be this chill about it--
"He's gone for a walk," Hannibal says, snipping clean through that choking vine of thought. Neph tips her head up, mouth falling open, as he calculates the time left on Will's outing. She can't decide whether to scream We were kidnapped like A WEEK AGO by crazy racists who KNOW WHAT WE LOOK LIKE and you're just letting Will wander around ALONE or He seriously stayed here for almost a WHOLE WEEK all on his own and you didn't have to handcuff him to a bed or leave his leg all messed up to do it? The two sentiments sort of cancel each other out, leaving her gaping in silence.
"Oh," she manages, instead of Why would he do that? He saw. He saw for himself and he stayed? Neph ducks her head back down, her good shoulder rounding in to squeeze against Hannibal's side. She doesn't--she can't--but why--she just--needs a minute. On autopilot, she says, "Call him and ask him ta bring back like eight pounds of Chinese? I forgot to tell you 'bout that part'a Burnout."
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timeasmymeasure
I need you to put that icon away pls thx
Date: 2017-08-22 05:17 am (UTC)She doesn't answer Hannibal, because she's too busy watching Hannibal. He doesn't flinch when she says Will's name, doesn't tense up or scowl the way she'd expect if Will had broken up with him and limped back to their busted apartment. He just tidies up the nightstand and finds a space on the mattress beside her. He ends up sitting near her shoulder, which Neph decides she doesn't like. It's not what she wants. She lets go of his hand, plants her palm by his hip, and heaves. The sudden motion yanks the IV and rattles its stand. Her arm shakes, lax muscles trembling as they re-engage after a long rest, but they're enough to get her up far enough to lean her head on Hannibal's shoulder. Then she takes his hand back. A dribble of blood seeps out from beneath the IV tape, ignored.
He's warm as a sunbaked rock from his shower, skin still a little sticky with heat. She's so cold, she just wants to plaster herself to his back and doze back off. Neph presses her cheek against the bony spur of his collarbone and sighs through her nose. Did he--wait--she knows that smell. That green, herbal smell. He totally grabbed his own soap from their bathroom, didn't he?
The familiar scent, the seeping warmth and her own burst of energy combine to leave her all pliable and dumb. That's what she'll tell herself later, when Hannibal prods at her about Will, and she lets the most painful truth slip in answer: "You're pretty much the only person who's ever stuck by what they promised me," she mumbles against his skin. "I don't--I don't blame him, s'prob'ly smarter an' safer for him not 'ta be 'round us, but..."
But he'd promised. And then he'd joked with her until she'd passed out. He was probably in shock at the time. Promises made when a person's lost that much blood don't count, and he's had five whole days to realize that. He must'a left really early on for Hannibal to be this chill about it--
"He's gone for a walk," Hannibal says, snipping clean through that choking vine of thought. Neph tips her head up, mouth falling open, as he calculates the time left on Will's outing. She can't decide whether to scream We were kidnapped like A WEEK AGO by crazy racists who KNOW WHAT WE LOOK LIKE and you're just letting Will wander around ALONE or He seriously stayed here for almost a WHOLE WEEK all on his own and you didn't have to handcuff him to a bed or leave his leg all messed up to do it? The two sentiments sort of cancel each other out, leaving her gaping in silence.
"Oh," she manages, instead of Why would he do that? He saw. He saw for himself and he stayed? Neph ducks her head back down, her good shoulder rounding in to squeeze against Hannibal's side. She doesn't--she can't--but why--she just--needs a minute. On autopilot, she says, "Call him and ask him ta bring back like eight pounds of Chinese? I forgot to tell you 'bout that part'a Burnout."