Crucifixion

Rude

A young teenage boy was sat in a rather comfortable waiting-room chair, his sharp blue eyes focussed solely on the painting hung on the wall before him. His messy blonde hair gave him a mischievous impression, which was soon soothed by the impossibly shy smile that seemed to permanently dance on his rather pink lips. His milky complexion did nothing for him as he wore a simple black tee and bleached skinny jeans, his right leg dangling over his left as his sneaker clad foot wobbled insistently in the air. He seemed nervous, yet also oddly at ease here in the waiting room, the part inbetween choosing weither or not to do something.

In his lap, tucked safely beneath his tender hands, was a notebook with a pen attached to it. The boy seemed to be eager to get to what he was here for, as his fingers subconciously tapped against the book's cover. It wasn't until a rather heavy presence sat next to him, that he snapped from his trance. He seemed reluctant to catch the gaze of the man next to him, thus only dared a peek from the corner of his angelic blue eyes. ''I wasn't aware that Dr Lecter also treated children.'' The gruff voice of the man sounded almost accusing, as if the boy had been in the wrong by being here. Ignoring the urge to snap at the dark skinned stranger, he merely nodded his head once. ''You were correct in being unaware of such a fact. Dr Lecter's patients are all above the age of 21, I can assure you.'' His voice was soft and had a hoarse crack to it here and there, proving the fact that he was quite nervous.

The man seemed to be taken aback by the teenager's silver tongue and politeness, observing him for a moment before offering one of his giant hands. ''I see. Jack Crawford.'' He stated as soon as the boy grasped and shook his hand. ''James Carnifex.'' He reluctantly told the man his name, before quickly tucking his hand back in his lap. ''If you are not the Doctor's patient, then why are you here?'' James wasn't sure if the man was aware of the fact that his questionaire was viewed as rude in a conversation with a stranger who happened to be a minor, but if he was then he didn't seem to care much for it. ''I am writing a report about Dr Lecter and merely wished to inquire with him if he was available to answer some of my questions.'' He answered softly, reluctantly. It wasn't that he was intimidated by the man's buff appearance, although he did feel very small next to him, but he wasn't fond of social interaction. He wasn't good at it, and the fact that his mind worked completely differently from most people wasn't helping whatsoever.

Neither of the two had noticed the door to the office open, as Jack offered the teenager what could be seen as a forced polite smile. ''You won't mind if I go in first, do you? Its really important.'' Jack replied, his tone final. As if it was already decided that James, who had been waiting for almost an hour now, would let this man go before him. Inwardly, the teenager was fuming. What utter rudeness! A faint sigh slipped past his pink lips, and he averted his gaze to the painting on the wall before him. It was of a giant and dark shadow, looming between some trees in a forest. The painted shadow seemed eager to leave despite the horrors that could lur around every corner. James, who only now registered the fact that Hannibal Lecter stood in the doorway, loosely gestured his hand towards the artwork. ''Do you see the shadow, Mr Crawford?'' His soft voice had a somewhat emotionless edge, but the man in question didn't seem to notice. He nodded, averting chocolate brown eyes to stare at the painting the teenager was talking about.

''It is impatient. Impatient to travel a path it has been longing to take. Impatient enough to be careless and without guidance. Tell me, Mr Crawford; What good has impatience ever brought us?'' James voice was slightly hoarse towards the end of the question, yet he didn't give the man enough time to answer. ''It has only ever served as the Mother of Mistakes and the Father of Irritation. I understand your desire and need to have a meeting with the Doctor before I do, despite me having been waiting for an hour already, as most people would find the wait tedious. Given the fact I must seem like a child to you, I can vaguely understand the assumption that I will blindly follow a command given by my elder. I can accept such a biased opinion on the youth, however, I cannot accept such rudeness. If you were to ask me kindly, I am sure we could come to an understanding.'' He finished his little speech with the faintest hint of pink on his usually pale cheeks, a clear sign that he was slightly embarassed by the situation he had gotten himself into.

''I-... I did not mean any disrespect.'' He managed to squeak out after the man had been staring him down without a response, his gaze lowering back to the empty notebook laid to rest in his lap. ''Jack, what a surprise to see you here.'' A dark voice smoothly spoke, cutting through the tense silence that hung in the waiting room. From the corner of his eyes, James could see that Hannibal had interfered at just the right time. Jack Crawford blinked a few times, his mind unable to comprehend that this teenager was a little genius, instead focussing on the form of a man he called his friend. ''Dr Lecter, yes. I was hoping to talk to you about Will. He seems to be going downhill.''

As the two adults conversed, James was vaguely aware of the glances Hannibal stole at him. He quietly stood up and in doing so, stilled both of the men in their conversation. I despise being the center point of attention. His cheeks burned with a more prominent color as he lowered his head, avoiding the gaze of both adults. ''I apologize, it was not my intention to impose. I will return another, more convenient, time. Please have a satisfying day, Dr Lecter. Mr Crawford.'' Before either of the men could tell him to stay, James had turned tail and speed-walked out of the hallway and out of the building. He wasn't a fool. He read up about this Will Graham, and he was quick to connect the dots and figure out who Jack Crawford was. FBI. He was unwilling to listen to any words said between the two of them regarding Will, and felt slightly angered that Jack would so carelessly talk about such a delicate subject with a stranger sitting right next to him.

Once out in the fresh air, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back to allow the sun to caress his face. It was time to go home regardless of Mr Crawford's interruption. If he were to be any later his father would kill him. With his emotionless mask back on his face, James started the 40 minute walk to his father's appartment. He was saddened to not have spoken to Hannibal aside from the apology of interference, and he was fuming with the rudeness of the FBI agent. How dare he!

All thoughts were forced to stop as he stood infront of the appartment door. 19B. He was back 'home.' With a sigh uttered in pure despair, James turned the key in the keyhole and pushed the door open. ''Dad, I'm home.''