Children are very observant, but they often get confused about the meaning of what they see. Their limitations define their perceptions.
Hannibal supposes he should have realized that Triss would be able to detect 'saying something incendiary just to upset someone else'. Foster homes teach you a lot of things quicker than even a school yard can. Hannibal hadn't yet glanced up when he heard Triss padding into the doorway, but now he looks at her. His arms hold a stack of three of the books, all carefully balanced so that none of them press on or rip at the others' delicate bindings. If Triss were an adult, he'd answer her over his shoulder while toting them off, leaving his cleaning uninterrupted.
He still feels equally unapologetic, but Hannibal doesn't brush her off so neatly. After a moment of considering, he very gently places the books back on the table. "It's a title they carried, centuries ago." Even if a lie couldn't be undermined by Triss asking those three potential teachers the same question she's asking him right now, Hannibal wouldn't be bothering to lie to her. He circles around the table but stays near it, pulling out a chair to sit down while facing her. "But they didn't choose it for themselves. It's a term their hunters used for them."
He sorts through the facts, weighing Triss's age and existing fear of her powers against them. "The world is already a much safer place for people like us, Triss. But today, the only written works that have survived about your people - or at least, the only ones that I have found - were written by their enemies." Hannibal inclines his head, as if conceding to a point that they've discussed before. "As you know, the terms that humans pick for people unlike themselves don't tend to be flattering. Jealousy and fear make them defensive."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2016-07-22 03:28 pm (UTC)Hannibal supposes he should have realized that Triss would be able to detect 'saying something incendiary just to upset someone else'. Foster homes teach you a lot of things quicker than even a school yard can. Hannibal hadn't yet glanced up when he heard Triss padding into the doorway, but now he looks at her. His arms hold a stack of three of the books, all carefully balanced so that none of them press on or rip at the others' delicate bindings. If Triss were an adult, he'd answer her over his shoulder while toting them off, leaving his cleaning uninterrupted.
He still feels equally unapologetic, but Hannibal doesn't brush her off so neatly. After a moment of considering, he very gently places the books back on the table. "It's a title they carried, centuries ago." Even if a lie couldn't be undermined by Triss asking those three potential teachers the same question she's asking him right now, Hannibal wouldn't be bothering to lie to her. He circles around the table but stays near it, pulling out a chair to sit down while facing her. "But they didn't choose it for themselves. It's a term their hunters used for them."
He sorts through the facts, weighing Triss's age and existing fear of her powers against them. "The world is already a much safer place for people like us, Triss. But today, the only written works that have survived about your people - or at least, the only ones that I have found - were written by their enemies." Hannibal inclines his head, as if conceding to a point that they've discussed before. "As you know, the terms that humans pick for people unlike themselves don't tend to be flattering. Jealousy and fear make them defensive."