The Ruins Of Creativity

Part 2

"Do you cross stitch?"

Hannibal smiled around his slice of pizza and coughed out a laugh. He shook his head. "Do I seem like someone who would cross stitch?" he asked back.

Will's shoulders shot up into a shrug and he grabbed another slice from the box, taking a large bite. His answer was muttered through the mouthful. "You're trying to be a surgeon. I thought you would know how to sew in some capacity."

"I have learned how to suture someone, but no. I do not know how to cross stitch. Why would you need to know that?"

"I just had this idea. I was thinking about how tattoos are able to be traced to artists based on the work."

"And you wanted to know if you could find the grandma through her embroidery?" Hannibal held back his laugh around another bite, enjoying the way that Will's cheeks turned rosy with embarrassment.

"No." Will sighed and straightened up from his slouch, crossing his legs and setting his half finished slice back in the box. He wiped his hands clean on the knees of his jeans and gave another shrug, looking anywhere but at Hannibal. "I was wondering how long it would take to cross stitch something into someone's skin. Like a tattoo. The person would potentially live, right?"

The peculiar interest that shone in Will's blue eyes turned the gears in Hannibal's mind. The forks had been messy, something out of Hannibal's personal style, but if he could somehow translate the art of needle and thread into tattooing the skin... the idea held far more appeal.

Will looked over Hannibal, taking in the way Hannibal's tongue traced his sharp canine when he was stuck deep in thought. It was endearing. Will was being listened to and heard for the first time in his life. Not just brushed aside or told to shove all of his unsightly and gruesome thoughts into a notebook. Someone actually cared what Will thought and dignified it with a calculated answer.

"The person would live as long as the piece didn't get too horribly infected and septic," Hannibal mused in the thick accent Will had grown fond of hearing ramble on. "As you pointed out, people get body modifications constantly. Tattoos, piercings, surgical metal plates and rods, skin grafts, and they are able to live a relatively normal life with the correct after care. I don't see why you couldn't stitch someone with body art."

"What would the healing process look like?" Will pressed. "Because with stitches, if they aren't removed in a timely manner then there are ill effects."

Hannibal's lips pursed in thought. "Yes. Harsh scaring could occur. Or the skin could grow over the thread if the proper care isn't taken. But you wanted to know how long it would take. It would depend on the person's skill, how large of an area they were covering and how intricate they wanted it to be."

"We're looking at a good few hours then," Will guesstimated, picking back up his slice to take another bite.

"To several days. It would take longer if the victim were awake. They would struggle."

Will's hand slowly lowered the pizza back down as he took in Hannibal's relaxed form, freshly showered and strewn across the small half of the bed they were sharing with the pizza between them.

Never once had Hannibal had an adverse reaction to anything Will had sprung on him. Will hadn't met anyone else with the same dark thoughts that swirled around his mind on the daily. He was certain his own therapists had been afraid of the monsters that lay hidden inside of him. But not Hannibal. Never Hannibal.

"You're always so calm." The words blurted from Will before he could catch them with his teeth and he winced when Hannibal's brows rose, but the man stayed silent. "Wh-when I bring this stuff up." Will's attempt at clarification only sent him reeling in further panic and he picked at the toppings on the remainder of his slice, his tongue feeling like a wriggling snake that he couldn't control. "I mean that- Well, you never seem to- What I'm trying to say is-"