Fortune's Fool (Hannibal Fanfiction)

XVIII: Madame Chrystelle Ball

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi hello howdy!! I am SO so sorry for the year-long wait between chapters yet again. It really is true what they say about how the hits keep coming and they don't stop coming and they don't stop coming and they don't stop coming........or however that Smash Mouth song goes. Anyway, you can thank my friend Kabooti for bullying me mercilessly about how long it's been since I last updated this fic till I finally started working on this chapter again. Everyone say thanks, Kabooti!

Shoutout also goes to apeurodo on AO3 for leaving such a lovely comment on the last chapter that I felt motivated enough to finally write the last couple of paragraphs of this chapter; Jayse and Zee for always poking me about my writing; and my best friend for always encouraging my progress, no matter how small. To my faithful readers who have stuck around this long (*checks my calendar to see that this fic is almost 4 years old already wtf*), I hope this humble offering even marginally makes up for the long wait.

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"I am Madame Chrystelle Ball," the fortune teller said. "Welcome. I look forward to reading your fortunes and unveiling your futures."

She stuck out her hand, although it was an awkward stretch for the men to reach her from where they stood behind the round cloth-covered chairs in front of the fortune telling table. Hannibal politely met her halfway and shook her hand, but Will did not. Instead, he pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on, blatantly ignoring her expectant eyes. Will's snub did not go unnoticed. Chrystelle, as she called herself, looked briefly amused before her face settled back into a benign smile.

She motioned to the chairs in front of the table. "Have a seat, s'il vous plaît."

Once they were seated, Chrystelle clasped her hands together over the table. She observed them for a moment, her eyes skimming over the cheap stuffed dog in Hannibal's lap, the gaudy badge pinned to Hannibal's three-piece suit, and Will's old dark-wash jeans and rumpled button-down shirt. Then she said, "As you may have seen on the sign by the doorway outside, individual readings are five dollars a person, while a couples' reading saves you money at seven dollars altogether."

"We're not a couple." The words were out of Will's mouth immediately, almost before he could fully process what she'd said. Excuse me? What the fuck?

"A joint reading, then," Chrystelle said, clearly unfazed. Her smile didn't falter for even a moment.

Irritation swept through him. First the damn homophobic hotel clerk, and now this? Will understood that he and Hannibal didn't exactly look as though they were colleagues, given how dissimilarly they dressed, but to jump right over the possibility of them being friends to them being a couple? It was a stretch that Will hadn't imagined that multiple people would make, especially within two days of each other. He frowned and looked at Hannibal, who immediately met his gaze over the rims of his glasses. The faint crinkling around the corners of Hannibal's eyes and the slight tilt to his lips betrayed his clear amusement. Will supposed that such an obvious mistake by someone who was supposed to be good at reading people could be kind of funny — that is, IF he wasn't already irritated that he had agreed to do this at all.

Will sighed, leaned back in his seat, and waved dismissively in Hannibal's direction. "You're the one who wanted to come here, so pick whatever you want."

Hannibal turned back to the fortune teller and said, "A joint reading, please."

Ugh. Of course.

Will took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, briefly closing his eyes. Just a few minutes, he told himself silently. A few minutes, and this questionable experience would be over. He could find the patience for that, right?