( Hey Hey You You ) I don't like your boyfriend (closed)

[avoirfaim]

Who: Hannibal Lecter & Evelyn O'Connell
Where: Evelyn's room.
When: backdated to July 2nd.
Rating: PG-13 uh probably a good estimate.
Summary: Hannibal ups his game and checks in on Evelyn after Will's accidental announcement.
The Story:

The revelation that Will and Evelyn were getting closer at a rapid pace was not really a revelation. Hannibal had suspected, with the smell of her perfume lingering in Will's hair, with the smell of that awful generic cologne clashing on Evelyn's skin. He thought they had been keeping their company closer with passing glances; from his deep understanding of Will, he had never been particularly good at communicating, and Evelyn's level of class left Alana Bloom in the dust. Evelyn O'Connell was also married. 

You surprise him Evelyn, and not in the way he might like. He thought better of you.

Does he believe Will that they only shared a bed and nothing more? Absolutely. Exasperation doesn't lie easily, defensiveness lies even worse. Does he believe that they may go further if he doesn't intercede? Of course.

When Hannibal knocks on her door with the framed picture under his arm, his shirt sleeves are rolled up. It presents, intentionally, a level of comfort, a dishevelment that comes natural with the turn of time. His dishevelment is meticulous.

Comments

[nascensibility]

Who Evelyn associates with on an intimate level is really nobody's business but her own (and perhaps that of the other person in question), which is why she made it a point not to react publicly to Will's inappropriate choice of words. They had a talk.

They had a very...interesting talk, the details of which will not be aired over the communications system because the only people who have the right to know are the two of them. Will apologised and that was what mattered, it would be a disservice to the both of them to pursue that particular piece of umbrage any more. For these reasons and more Evelyn finds her early afternoon guest an unexpected surprise.

Her own rumpled appearance is conversely not deliberate, hair plaited over one shoulder and wearing a practical blouse with a pair of trousers (it has been too long since she made a point to explore the Wonderland caves again, today is as good a day as any).

"Hannibal!"

She knows better than to leave someone standing out in the hallway - Evelyn steps back and gestures that he enter.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

[avoirfaim]

His smile is playfully affectionate as he enters, and he holds up the framed portrait he had promised her. She has yet to disappoint him on the politesse front, at least.

"I thought that I would bring this by, if you still want it."

[nascensibility]

To be perfectly honest, Evelyn had almost forgotten about the drawing - it's been a very busy few weeks. Shutting the door behind him, she peers around at the finished product. The framing itself is attractive and understated. He knows how practical she is.

It also doesn't escape her notice that Hannibal is looking markedly casual today. The hallmark of informal calls?

"Oh, Hannibal. It looks beautiful. Thank you."

Standing in front of him, she rests her fingertips on the bottom corners of the frame, a question of receipt.

"May I?"

[avoirfaim]

"Of course, it's yours." He hands the frame over and closes the door behind him. He is a man of privacy first and foremost, unless the opposite is necessary. Anyway, he continues speaking with little pause.

"That beauty comes from the subject, all that I've done is capture it's likeness and compose the vignette accordingly."

[nascensibility]

"Careful, I'm liable to blush."

Although really, who doesn't enjoy a gentle stroke of the ego every so often? Evelyn is just as human as anyone else and she fancies compliments whether they come from an academic point of origin, or something more physically-oriented. A girl is permitted to preen.

An empty space on the wall with two little hooks - she was rearranging photographs and maps, you see - is soon filled, Hannibal's drawing replacing an artistic rendering of Djoser's step-pyramid. Evelyn moves back a few feet, appraising its fairly prominent position on the wall, before deciding it will do and that appropriate thanks are in order.

"...Unfortunately, I am not artistically gifted, and can therefore only offer you a humble cup of tea and the inimitable delight of being in my company in return."

And maybe a soufflé sometime.

[avoirfaim]

The portrait is well placed, and he nods an approval. He smiles in playful amusement, a smile of an introvert's relaxed friendship.

"Well then I would be obligated to accept. Tea would be great."

He didn't come solely to give her the drawing though, nor to enjoy her company. Not today, when his patience with her company has begun to wear thin. He sucks on his bottom lip, as he so often does when presenting a facade of restrained concern, before speaking.

"I must admit though, my intentions in paying you a visit weren't entirely selfish. I would apologize for Will's outburst the other day but I imagine he already did what needed to be done."

More than what was needed, if that much of Will's horrid taste in cologne could linger in the room so strongly. The question remained, one he might check if he were to find himself close enough, as to whether it stuck to her hair and skin as it did to the barely circulating Wonderland air.

[nascensibility]

Thoroughly contented with her gift Evelyn moves to put the kettle on, because as much as she enjoys the convenience of Wonderland's cupboards, there is something infinitely more satisfying about steeping your own tea. Evelyn prepares a pair of cups and saucers, glancing over her shoulder at Hannibal while he speaks.

Almost agonisingly, she is powerless to resist the smile that tugs on the edges of her lips. Yes, in fact, Will certainly did what needed to be done, if what needed to be done was Evelyn.

"I appreciate the thought, but I made certain to give him a proper dressing-down. He apologised."

[avoirfaim]

Steeping tea properly is an art form in itself, and if tea with his aunt as a young man had taught him anything, it was the difference between a casual cup and one brewed with care. He will, of course, enjoy her own choice in steeping time, though he enjoys less so the tug at her lips. It is agonizing for the both of them, for as far as Hannibal can truly feel agony. Rather, for him it plucks like a string on a violin wound too tightly, ready to snap. It carries with it a desire to restrain ones self in its force.

The shrill sound of smug secrecy strikes a nerve.

The nerve twitches below the surface, no sensation at all meeting his eyes. He has long since become detached from their endings.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. Making a public statement like that, worded as poorly as it was, I've found I'm used to that degree of rudeness from him but it can, perhaps, cause some friction with others. I do hope that his disregard for your privacy won't keep you two from remaining friends."

[nascensibility]

Tea came late to Britain compared to its origins in the Asiatic countries, but the standard English remedy for difficult times is a cuppa, and to this day it remains the traditional offering of hospitality upon receiving visitors in your humble abode. If smug secrecy is what comes across in her words, it was certainly not intentional - Evelyn does not approve of gloating, it is a crude and brutish way of communicating pride, usually ill-founded.

She's happy for the first time in a long time. Sue her.

"I don't think it will," she replies, tapping a teacup and shaking her head. "It was a very poor choice of words, yes, and I gather that Will's methods of verbal communication are not always ideal-"

What he says in silence or in action tends to be much more telling, she has noticed.

"-especially around someone as overtly talkative as I am," Evelyn grimaces, fully aware of her tendency to become verbose, although she'll never apologise for it. "But I grew up with a brother thrice as crass - very little shocks me."