Neph's finely honed nonverbal communication skills enable her to make a pained, guttural noise that somehow says are you fucking kidding me and very funny, assholes and this right here is why neither of you have other friends and uuuuuuuuuuuuugh all at once. She narrows her eyes at Will, at his shaking shoulders and badly hidden smile, a squint that speaks of future payback, 'cuz she knows he did that on purpose. Waited til she had a mouthful of coffee and everything.
The fact that Hannibal blurted it out after letting her go gives her pause. Ditching his old identity didn't come easily to Hannibal; they fought over it more than once while they figured out the paperwork, the will and his medschool admission. His older self had an ego barely contained by his fancyass house, and the teenage version wasn't much less burdened by pride. Convincing him to be someone other than Hannibal Lecter, longterm, publicly, took some real doing. Neph can't dig up any surprise that he'd jump at the chance to tell Will, to exert a little bit more of himself and be seen for who he really is, but...
...maybe she's reading too far into things, only the timing tastes significant. He slips his hold on her while drawing Will in closer with shared secrets. Neph, who grew up in a loose network bound by nothing else, knows those constraints very, very well.
Her only question is whether Hannibal meant to do it, or if he acted on panicked impulse. She remembers how the offer to run had grated out of him, the whites of his eyes flashing in what might've been badly-concealed terror, his shocked stillness when she turned up just now despite how obvious the shower must've been, and can't credit him with calculating any of it.
Loneliness makes people do really dumb shit. Take stupid gambles. Nine times outta ten, it blows up in your face, but the tenth time...she's sitting in Exhibit A right now, so she can't judge him too harshly for it. He could've risked someone a lot less trustworthy than Will, or her, when he went around fixating on people.
"I know he can," Neph scowls at Hannibal and shoulders into his arm. Will kept his mouth stubbornly shut about someone breaking his face, a truth that could've gotten people arrested (and himself killed, if the angle had been slightly different). He's a pretty inscrutable guy when he wants to be. Even moreso when you know how he reads people; it's easy to get hung up on that and forget what he might actually be thinking. He keeps himself to himself, a trait she's noticed in people who move around too frequently to make close friends. Who would he even tell? Who would care? Who would listen? More than that, why would he make a Thing out of it at all? "It's your secret identity, Hanners. It's your call."
She manages not to make that sound like it's your funeral, a victory all around.
no subject
The fact that Hannibal blurted it out after letting her go gives her pause. Ditching his old identity didn't come easily to Hannibal; they fought over it more than once while they figured out the paperwork, the will and his medschool admission. His older self had an ego barely contained by his fancyass house, and the teenage version wasn't much less burdened by pride. Convincing him to be someone other than Hannibal Lecter, longterm, publicly, took some real doing. Neph can't dig up any surprise that he'd jump at the chance to tell Will, to exert a little bit more of himself and be seen for who he really is, but...
...maybe she's reading too far into things, only the timing tastes significant. He slips his hold on her while drawing Will in closer with shared secrets. Neph, who grew up in a loose network bound by nothing else, knows those constraints very, very well.
Her only question is whether Hannibal meant to do it, or if he acted on panicked impulse. She remembers how the offer to run had grated out of him, the whites of his eyes flashing in what might've been badly-concealed terror, his shocked stillness when she turned up just now despite how obvious the shower must've been, and can't credit him with calculating any of it.
Loneliness makes people do really dumb shit. Take stupid gambles. Nine times outta ten, it blows up in your face, but the tenth time...she's sitting in Exhibit A right now, so she can't judge him too harshly for it. He could've risked someone a lot less trustworthy than Will, or her, when he went around fixating on people.
"I know he can," Neph scowls at Hannibal and shoulders into his arm. Will kept his mouth stubbornly shut about someone breaking his face, a truth that could've gotten people arrested (and himself killed, if the angle had been slightly different). He's a pretty inscrutable guy when he wants to be. Even moreso when you know how he reads people; it's easy to get hung up on that and forget what he might actually be thinking. He keeps himself to himself, a trait she's noticed in people who move around too frequently to make close friends. Who would he even tell? Who would care? Who would listen? More than that, why would he make a Thing out of it at all? "It's your secret identity, Hanners. It's your call."
She manages not to make that sound like it's your funeral, a victory all around.