1. Video, public

[orderfromchaos]

[Dillon arrives precisely at noon sharp, January 1st, bargetime, because....of course he does. He doesn't notice this. The tranquilizers are gone from his system, but he's still trussed up in his full transport rig, immobile, masked, muffled, field of vision restricted by blinders. It's a little more involved than fiberglass cuffs, but it still only takes him a few minutes to wriggle just the right way, and piece by piece, his restraints fall away.

When he flicks the communicator on, he makes an incongruous picture: a young man with effortlessly, immaculately neat hair, wearing a distinctive and equally pristine prison orange jumpsuit. The glimpses of the room behind him lend themselves to a very prosaic early nineties teen, suburban and homey, and from one hand he dangles a particularly distinctive mask, with added eyes-forward style horse blinders.]

Hey, does anybody want a souped up Hannibal Lecter mask? I managed to get it off without breaking it, and it seems like the kind of thing that might come in handy sometimes around here.

...oh, and I'm Dillon. Hi.

Comments

video ► private/video

[versusnurture]

[Oh, god. She stares for a minute, then slaps the feed on without bothering to make it private. All you get is this stare, like she's trying to unravel the entire universe, and then she realizes what she's done and hits it to private.]

Give it to me.

video ► private/video

[orderfromchaos]

[...well that's. Something. She's - damaged, badly, in ways he can't quite parse.]

You're not alright.

[This isn't a question. Solemn, not gentle enough to patronizing. A statement of fact.]

Tell me it won't hurt you worse to have it around, and I will.

private/video

[versusnurture]

It won't hurt me worse.

[Maybe she says this too quickly, but it's also what she believes to be true. On the other hand, she's believed many things to be true, and historically, so few of them are.]

I mean - it won't hurt me worse if you explain what that is. A "Hannibal Lecter" mask. Something from prison. Isn't it? A restraint?

private/video

[orderfromchaos]

Basically. Military custody, technically, and once they realized I could shake off cuffs whenever I wanted they started trussing me up a little more thoroughly. The point was to stop me from doing...anything, as long as I was around other people.

[This part is gentle, but mildly so, not an obvious shift. He can tell already that it's real for her, though how exactly she's involved is deeply murky, and he doesn't really want to look closer.]

There's a movie about him, where I'm from. He wears something like it when he's locked up. I didn't know what else to call it.

private/video

[versusnurture]

[Military custody. He can shake off cuffs . . . well, Hannibal couldn't do that in any kind of supernatural way, but Abigail has no doubt he'd figure out a way to do it somehow.]

[It's confirmation enough. And when he says there's a movie, a tremble in her shoulders, a brightness in her eyes, but no overtly negative reaction. She just stares, unblinking, for a touch too long.]

I'd rather talk in person. If you don't mind. If you're not going to - bite.

private/video

[orderfromchaos]

[He shakes his head.]

I won't.

Where do you want to meet?

private/video

[versusnurture]

There's a chapel on the deck. I'm going there now.

[If only because that isn't really Hannibal's kind of place. She shuts off the feed and goes to sit in a pew all the way at the back, knees pulled up to her chest.]

private/video

[orderfromchaos]

See you soon.

[Five minutes. He's changed into jeans and a T-shirt, and he hovers for a moment on the threshold. He hasn't been inside a church since that disastrous confession in Los Angeles - but he takes a breath, crosses himself, and goes in.]

spam

[versusnurture]

[Under ordinary circumstances, she'd have factored Dillon's possible discomfort into her choice of meeting place. She did it with Ben once before - not that it worked. Now, though, she's just trying to progress from second to second without actually imploding and sees the chapel as safety. Sanctuary. Flimsy, but something.]

[She waves two fingers at him when she sees him cross the threshold.]

It's me. [And then, realizing she hasn't actually introduced herself:] Um. Abigail.

spam

[orderfromchaos]

[He doesn't mind so much, once he's in. It's not a proper church, all stripped down and unitarian. But the shape of it was a sanctuary for him too, once. He waves back, a little silly-shy, then sits down with about a person's worth of space between them.]

Pleased to meet you, Abigail.

[He doesn't offer his hand. He bites his lip, because he's a little nervous about how - precarious - she seems, but second-guessing and concealing seem like a bad idea, all things considered.]

I'll answer any questions as honestly as I can.

spam

[versusnurture]

[He's really polite, she thinks - of all the non sequiturs bouncing around her head right now - and forces herself to lower her feet to the ground. Her scarf is off, even though she was tempted to replace it for this meeting for the first time in over a month; the scar where her throat was cut is clearly visible under the ceiling lights.]

The movie you were talking about. Hannibal Lecter is in prison. He was caught and put away and restrained. But what you showed me, that's your mask? Do I understand right?

[It's important to know circumstances of this kind of thing.]

spam

[orderfromchaos]

[He is polite, especially with people nearer his own age. Adults he tends to chafe against.]

Yeah, that's right. The -

[He gestures to his eyes.]

- the blinders, they added those for me, but the part over the jaw, that's the kind he has to wear in prison.

spam

[versusnurture]

[Now she looks at him and sees him, really him, for the first time. Registers that he was jailed. That now he's not - at least if he's a warden.]

[She swallows - not out of fear. Guilt, maybe.]

Why did they need to keep you from seeing?

private

[youwill]

[Oh Abigail. He sees that, and he clicks on his camera for just a moment, the same as her. Only this isn't unintentional, this is an active decision toe return that stare. Feeling greedy?

He doesn't say anything, just records the video, and turns it off again.]

private

[versusnurture]

[Oh, no, you don't.]

[She snaps the feed on again. The mask fits a little loosely; it was made for someone with a wider jaw, a longer face. But she can breathe through it easily, and her eyes are sharp and venomous with the blinders removed.]

[Not a single word. She just watches and waits.]

private

[youwill]

[Camera off, out of sight, he smiles to himself when he sees the feed come back on.

When he turns his back on, the smile is gone, but it hovers in his eyes. He's angry. He's proud. He's pleased and he will work through other people no matter what options they take from him.]

It brings out your eyes. [My, what sharp teeth you have.]

private

[versusnurture]

I know.

[It's muffled through the grille; she takes the mask off and places it carefully beside her, like a fragile relic of an ancient or future civilization. She smiles, bright and charming, razor wire.]

I know.

[You snooze, you lose. Maybe she'll mount it. Maybe not. Either way, they both know what it is: a trophy.]

[She cocks her head. Are you proud of me?]

private

[youwill]

[She is a sharp and deadly if not the most precise instrument. One he is fond of. One he wants to sharpen. One he wants to break when her purpose is served, so she can't be used against him.]

You've been busy. [Now. While he slept. Dillon, Ryan, Nathan.]

private

[versusnurture]

I've been busy, [she confirms, nodding. Busy trying to kill him. Busy failing. Busy getting cold feet, rather. Maybe someday. Maybe.]

[She can't lie convincingly enough about this, even to herself.]

Dillon's sweet. [Sounds like a lie, but she means it.] Don't eat him.

private

[youwill]

I'm disappointed you didn't visit. [She could have killed him while he slept, while Mal slept. He'd have rotted in his office. It's poetic, if it lacks a challenge: he hopes that's why she didn't do it, that it wouldn't have been enough for her.]

Sweetness is easy to tolerate. [But this seemed rather rude to him.]

private

[versusnurture]

[She wouldn't have done it like that even if she could have - too easy. Not humiliating enough. And it wouldn't have felt right. She can't say how, but it ought to be more . . . sorrowful than that. She has such depth of feeling, she knows she does, he doesn't, that's where she can draw the line--]

[But she loves him so much. That's what Dillon saw, she thinks, the vengeful daughter. The conflict. That's why he looked away.]

I didn't want to disturb you. [A pause, the breath of a rest.] He couldn't have known you were here. He didn't check. He didn't even know what day it was. And most people don't expect to meet . . . you know. Fictional manifestations of paychological terror. Not their first day at work.

private

[youwill]

[The very corner of his mouth curls: fictional manifestations of psychological terror. It's not a bad title, really. Fitting, if a bit on the nose. He appreciates a certain amount of flair, drama.] Of course. You are very thoughtful.

[She loves him very much.]

Has he won you over with this [trophy] gift? [He lets amusement filter into his voice: a calming gesture, in it's way. Certainly he's not accusing her of being defensive. Not looking at these other people she cares for.]

private

[versusnurture]

[She considers this, with a light lilting noise of curiosity at her own motive. Has he? She's been won over with less. She doesn't trust Dillon, but then, she doesn't distrust him - is grateful for his contribution, and furthermore, not just that he gave it to her but that he gave it to her over someone less worthy. She feels chosen, and she feels seen, and she smiles at Hannibal and turns the mask over and back, over and back.]

I guess he has. It's a good present. He's thoughtful just like me.

[Maybe not just like. She doesn't quite know yet. But she wants to find out.]

Does that make me shallow? [No, it doesn't. It makes her obsessive. But she already knew she was that.]

private

[youwill]

[His eyes stay on her face, though he registers the over and over of the mask with precision. She has her trophy; he does not begrudge her it. It's not the mask he wants, it's what it represents. ]

No, Abigail. You are not shallow. [Hannibal's pride is predatory, but it is not wild. He kept hidden for so many years by simply being better. So long as the police, the world, knew that the Chesapeake Ripper was better than them, his pride was satisfied.

His pride is prowling, now. His smile widens.]

You have a depth to you that is unmatched.

[But she will never lie well enough to herself, she will never be obsessive enough, she will never match him.]

private

[versusnurture]

You're angry.

[She's - wondering. She's never seen him like this. So dark and clear and impossible to understand, like a bottomless, brimming well. She wonders who'll fall into it this time. Not her, she vows. Not this time.]

But not because you're in pain. You still must be, but that can't be why . . . pain isn't.

It's nothing.

Not to you.

[Like me.]