Carnivore, Won't You Come Digest Me?

Chapter 2

Hannibal does not have a lot of room in his life or his paycheck for lavish things. What he does spend, though, he spends on his kitchen. His apartment is a ground-floor, basic affair. He doesn't spend a lot of time within it except when he cooks, and the fine things he does own were inherited or brought from his home in Lithuania when he had enough money to send for them.

His kitchen in comparison to the rest of his apartment is positively brimming with expensive tools and equipment – one can hardly make sausage from a man's gut with a twenty-dollar blender, after all. The oven is serviceable, although he often wishes it was larger, so he could do proper roasts. The stove is gas, at least, which took him a long time to find.

He goes home and breads and fries kidneys from the remains of a man who felt like he didn't need to tip at a restaurant. He finds himself sitting and staring at the food, not eating, his mind a whirl.

How in the whole of God's green Earth is he supposed to catch a copycat, with a man who sees far too much watching his every move? Hannibal curses Jack under his breath, and his own foolishness for indulging in his playground while working an active case.

But he would have gotten away with it. The murder was like enough of Garrett Jacob Hobb's other murders, with the motif of a hunter and draining the girls by mounting them on antlers, that no one would have looked twice at it. And as lead on the case, no one would have doubted his deduction when he pinned the murder on Hobbs and closed the case.

Then, Will. Will, with his sharp eyes and his awe-inspiring level of empathy. He'd called it 'petulant', Hannibal's designs. Well, if Will wants to see how petulant Hannibal can be, he'll certainly rise to the challenge. It's been a long time since he met anyone who might pose a challenge or threat to him, and Will is both.

He will need to find out more about the man. The devil is in the details now, and information is what will keep Hannibal one step ahead, and make sure he can navigate Will's gaze until Will grows bored, or Hannibal finds another suitable scapegoat for this crime so that Jack is appeased and will take Will off Hannibal's hands.

But first, Hannibal must also find out what Will knows about him.

Decided, he finishes his meal and takes his laptop from his office bag, firing it up while he opens a fresh bottle of wine and pours himself a glass. Hannibal will spare a lot of his expenses for good wine, as well – one must hardly go through all the trouble of preparing the meals he does and then pair it with water, or soda. How insulting.

He opens Google and types in "Doctor Will Graham", settling down at his table as the page loads. He gets a link to the BSU faculty, as well as a link to a staff directory of John Hopkins. He raises his eyebrows when he clicks on it. So, apparently Will was a surgeon before he turned to psychiatry and teaching. Interesting.

Hannibal smiles to himself, pleased to note that Will might have the stomach for the kinds of murders Hannibal intends to show him. Or, perhaps it is just the opposite – maybe Doctor Graham couldn't handle the pressure, the blood, the life-or-death of it all.

He finds another link to Will's Alma Mater. "Top three of his class, graduated with honors..." He hums and takes a sip of wine. "You are quite the accomplished man, Doctor Graham."

Still, all this gives him is statistics and a brief summary of Will's achievements. Which, while important, hardly shape a man. He closes his laptop and stands. He will gain much more insight, he is sure, by sharing company with Will. He will pick and prod at the man until Will reveals all of his secrets. Like who he was married to. If he has children. If he cares about them.

The hour is late, and Hannibal knows Will's office will be empty. He finishes his glass and puts the wine bottle in the fridge, decided. It would be interesting to know what Will has said about him in his notes, as well – if Will sees as much as he claims to see.