YOU were one of my bosses! Neph heroically manages not to screech, with Will standing right there in their kitchen. It kills her to swallow down that obvious, perfect zinger, though. It just kills her. Her whole face scrunches up with the effort, but it scrunches in Hannibal's general direction. Displeasure: expressed.
If he takes her seriously, he doesn't show it, but then he'd just been shamelessly reading over her shoulder and she'd made very little effort to stop him. His position in her good graces can't have slipped much, and he must know it. Answering texts in arm's reach of Hannibal is as good as permitting him to scroll through the chain anyway, though he might be distracted by the novelty of Will Graham, here, in their living space.
Neph's thumb taps aimlessly at the now blank screen. Are you sure about Baltimore? She hadn't hesitated to say yes. Hannibal might've seen the question, or the response, or both, but did he realize what it meant? Or why she'd done it? Smacking Samson down carried a ringing satisfaction, an intense self righteousness that's going to carry her for days, yet she could've done that any time in the last year. Before she could order him out, she had to have somewhere to be. She'd needed something to stand up for, a foundation to stand on.
Staking Baltimore had a lot less to do with banishing Samson than staying where Hannibal's putting down roots.
She buries her face in her coffee mug, chasing the last dregs of sugary sludge. There's no way he got that much from two texts, if he saw 'em at all. But, if...
Neph's grunt of agreement ends up amplified by the mug. She pulls it away, a vicious smirk rising over the rim. "Oh yeah, he was," she tells Will, "That's why he showed up today. He thought it was cuz I'd snitched and wanted...I dunno, for me to say I'd made it up, I guess." Some of her hard-earned schadenfreude drops away at the reminder; it's a little easier, now, to talk around what happened to her with the two of them, but she can't bring herself to bring the details into focus for them. And thoughts of Samson's ploy fill her gut with hot, tarry anger. Her eyes narrow, and if there's a petty gleam there, well, Neph's never pretended not to be vindictive or spiteful or, like, a good person. "So fuck that guy, 'cuz now he's extra blacklisted."
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If he takes her seriously, he doesn't show it, but then he'd just been shamelessly reading over her shoulder and she'd made very little effort to stop him. His position in her good graces can't have slipped much, and he must know it. Answering texts in arm's reach of Hannibal is as good as permitting him to scroll through the chain anyway, though he might be distracted by the novelty of Will Graham, here, in their living space.
Neph's thumb taps aimlessly at the now blank screen. Are you sure about Baltimore? She hadn't hesitated to say yes. Hannibal might've seen the question, or the response, or both, but did he realize what it meant? Or why she'd done it? Smacking Samson down carried a ringing satisfaction, an intense self righteousness that's going to carry her for days, yet she could've done that any time in the last year. Before she could order him out, she had to have somewhere to be. She'd needed something to stand up for, a foundation to stand on.
Staking Baltimore had a lot less to do with banishing Samson than staying where Hannibal's putting down roots.
She buries her face in her coffee mug, chasing the last dregs of sugary sludge. There's no way he got that much from two texts, if he saw 'em at all. But, if...
Neph's grunt of agreement ends up amplified by the mug. She pulls it away, a vicious smirk rising over the rim. "Oh yeah, he was," she tells Will, "That's why he showed up today. He thought it was cuz I'd snitched and wanted...I dunno, for me to say I'd made it up, I guess." Some of her hard-earned schadenfreude drops away at the reminder; it's a little easier, now, to talk around what happened to her with the two of them, but she can't bring herself to bring the details into focus for them. And thoughts of Samson's ploy fill her gut with hot, tarry anger. Her eyes narrow, and if there's a petty gleam there, well, Neph's never pretended not to be vindictive or spiteful or, like, a good person. "So fuck that guy, 'cuz now he's extra blacklisted."