It could have been either of them, or both of them, ready to greet her. It wouldn't have been neither of them. One of them always stayed, even when getting continental breakfast from the alcove of an office at the front of the building, even when considering just how crowded that motel room started feeling as emotions steamed under the heat of injuries and fear keeping everyone right on top of each other.
...Not everyone. Neph's been asleep.
The both of them, then. Just the two of them.
(Not that Will hasn't tried speaking to Neph, when he thinks Hannibal can't hear him from the bathroom, when he doesn't think Hannibal might be listening at the door before coming back inside the room. He's talked to her about innocuous enough things, but his tone is something Hannibal has trouble placing. It sounds like it belongs in a nursing home, and he doesn't like it, even if he thinks he might have liked the gesture itself.
Will has not taken Neph's coma as well as Hannibal has.)
But as it happens, it's Hannibal - just Hannibal - who's home when Neph wakes up.
The shower squeaks off abruptly. Hannibal stares at the fake-tile wall of the shower, listening intently - there it is again.
That's Neph's voice.
Hannibal is not the sort of person who yells 'I'm coming!' in a panic when someone is trying to get his attention but he'll be a moment. But right then, he finds himself saying loudly "I'm here!" even as he's sliding out of the narrow motel shower.
"Neph." Towel around his waist, hair just barely long enough to plaster down his forehead to his eyebrows, he's still dripping water from the fingers of his free hand. He pauses for a moment when he sees her.
He had pulled one of her eyelids up, after the surgery to set her arm, just to check for burst veins. The lack of reaction in her pupils, the nothingness in her stare, had been haunting. Now she's clearly awake. Alive.
And then he's coming over to her, one still-very-damp hand coming down to reach for hers, fingers snaking around for her pulse as if that makes this anything less than a desperate grab at a friend who's just woken up. "You weren't wrong when you said it might take a while."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2017-08-19 02:48 am (UTC)...Not everyone. Neph's been asleep.
The both of them, then. Just the two of them.
(Not that Will hasn't tried speaking to Neph, when he thinks Hannibal can't hear him from the bathroom, when he doesn't think Hannibal might be listening at the door before coming back inside the room. He's talked to her about innocuous enough things, but his tone is something Hannibal has trouble placing. It sounds like it belongs in a nursing home, and he doesn't like it, even if he thinks he might have liked the gesture itself.
Will has not taken Neph's coma as well as Hannibal has.)
But as it happens, it's Hannibal - just Hannibal - who's home when Neph wakes up.
The shower squeaks off abruptly. Hannibal stares at the fake-tile wall of the shower, listening intently - there it is again.
That's Neph's voice.
Hannibal is not the sort of person who yells 'I'm coming!' in a panic when someone is trying to get his attention but he'll be a moment. But right then, he finds himself saying loudly "I'm here!" even as he's sliding out of the narrow motel shower.
"Neph." Towel around his waist, hair just barely long enough to plaster down his forehead to his eyebrows, he's still dripping water from the fingers of his free hand. He pauses for a moment when he sees her.
He had pulled one of her eyelids up, after the surgery to set her arm, just to check for burst veins. The lack of reaction in her pupils, the nothingness in her stare, had been haunting. Now she's clearly awake. Alive.
And then he's coming over to her, one still-very-damp hand coming down to reach for hers, fingers snaking around for her pulse as if that makes this anything less than a desperate grab at a friend who's just woken up. "You weren't wrong when you said it might take a while."