Carnivore, Won't You Come Digest Me?

Chapter 9

Will doesn't ask for the ring back, and so it sits on the bedside table in his guest room, gleaming in the lamplight. Hannibal finds his gaze often going to it, idly picturing in his head what kind of man Randall must have been, to have so captured and kept Will's attention. He imagines Randall is young, closer to Will's age than his own. He would have dark eyes, and a smile that lit up a room, to hide the predator crawling under his skin and so that he could bare his teeth without arousing suspicion.

He spends the first hour with his notebook and his phone, taking the letters of Randall's name and applying them to the other pictographs. It's apparent right away that even with the coded letters, Will is not writing his notes in English. He copies down the letters that he can identify easily – the 'R's, the 'A's, 'N's, 'D's, and 'L's. From there, he attempts to figure out the rest of the words. The fact that is it not in English is another obstacle, for he cannot look at a three-letter word, see no 'A', and assume it's a 'The'.

But Hannibal knows many languages, and the art of learning another is never one that has proven difficult for him. The letters 'AN' appear often, some in short words, some in long. Hannibal sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, his eyes getting tired after the food and wine and low light as he continues to work.

It's like being given a glimpse at the world's most intricate and engaging puzzle. He is determined to figure out Will's code, for through it he can truly know what Will has observed and thought about him. It is a matter of survival and ego; if Will is as talented as Jack claims him to be, and as sharp-eyed as Hannibal himself has seen, it could prove inconvenient to further their friendship or attachment.

Hannibal manages to identify the 'S'. Will uses it after an apostrophe when combined with Randall's name. He smiles, adding it to the rest of his transcription, and blinks down at his page.

There is one word. AL--RN-S. It is the most complete one he has found so far. He tilts his head to one side and flips to a new page, tapping his pen against the side of his notebook as he thinks over what the other letters might mean.

"A, L, T...?" He writes it down, and then smiles. "Alternus."

Latin.

His smile widens, and he applies the letters 'T', 'E', and 'U' to the rest of the transcript, humming in delight when more words start to form. Hannibal had studied Latin for years in Paris, and though much of his memory has faded, his grasp of Italian and French is providing wonders in aiding him in translation.

He has the first page almost completely translated when he hears a floorboard creak. He frowns, setting down his notepad and phone, and sits up straighter in his bed. Will's home is old enough to move with the change in temperature and the actions of those within it, but even still, it sounded deliberate, like a footstep. And not one coming from the direction of Will's bedroom.

Hannibal rises, reaching for his gun on the bedside table. He hears another footstep, and growls under his breath. He hadn't heard Will rising from his bed or crossing the hallway and down the stairs. Which means there is someone else in the house.

He turns off his light and creeps to the door, opening it silently. He prowls out to the landing, his gun aimed to the floor below. He can see a flashlight, roving around, the shadow of a tall, dark man.

He smiles and lowers his gun. "Hello, Tobias."

The flashlight rears up, illuminating Hannibal's face. He winces and raises his hand to shield his gaze from it, blinking in the abrupt light. "What has you coming here at such a late hour?"

Tobias' warm laugh is familiar, and Hannibal lowers his hand as the flashlight beam moves to his feet. "Loose ends," he replies, and walks up the stairs with little sound. Hannibal presses his lips together and moves out of the way so that Tobias has room to stand with him on equal ground.