Date: 2017-02-08 02:59 am (UTC)
operapaintingandmurder: (Default)
He knew she was here. He knew she was here literally this entire time, since he walked in the door.

So there's no reason for him to freeze in the middle of putting the half and half on the counter. There's no reason for everything in his body to stop for a moment when her voice rings out through their (!) kitchen.

But apparently there is still an ease to imagining things as opposed to actually experiencing them, and Hannibal wasn't as prepared as he thought he was for being confronted with the fact that he addressed such a wide, unspoken issue between Neph and himself and she's now...just back in their apartment. Not as if nothing happened - she's coming in with an air of enforced normalcy hanging just as heavy as the shampoo-steam cloud, but she's coming in as if it's something they can get past.

Hannibal remembers her pressing dry, chilly lips to his cheek, and the fact that he's done something she appreciates rings...surprisingly strange. He knows she likes him - they live together, he'd gotten the gist of what that meant somewhere between her spending two weeks of late nights arranging his paperwork with him and between their lease getting signed - but intentionally, knowingly giving her something that she needed is...different.

It's Will who breaks the silence, only looking over at Neph once he's done staring a bit openly and concerned at Hannibal's frozen posture. "Yeah. I didn't know you could need that many settings for coffee, but I'm assuming that's what came out of that machine." For all his fidgety pacing, now that he's gotten a good look at Neph - and he does actually spend a moment looking her up and down, not hiding it at all - he visibly relaxes against the counter.

Will nudges the mugs over a bit further, as if it wasn't clear what they're on the counter for, about the same time as Hannibal reanimates and finds he's capable of finally putting that half and half down near them.

"Did you have a nice run?" Hannibal asks, and he surprises himself that his voice doesn't feel stiff or forced. He's relieved, and it shows, even though his fingertips feel strangely numb and his ribs ache. He feels like he just ran the few miles back to their apartment and he's only just colliding with the exhausted endorphin rush at the tail of it.

Will just squints at them, like he's aware he's on the outside of an in-joke but he knows enough not to ask. He helps himself to the finished pot of coffee first, eyeing Hannibal with a telegraphed suspicion that has Hannibal smirking over at Neph.
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