𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞: A Hannigram Love Story

Chapter Four

Small author's note: Dear, reader : I'm terribly sorry for my late written works. Currently, many problems have suddenly decided to apparate within my life and nestle themselves deep within my mind. I do hope that you enjoy this segment. Also, psst! Listen to the rendition of "Animal" (originally performed by Neon Trees) by Chase Holfelder during the last few paragraphs of this chapter!

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The evening had taken a turn Will hadn't particularly cared for. He'd given Hannibal the cold shoulder knowing full well the impact it'd place on both of them, and, in a way, had rejected the older completely. His cognitive abilities, though sharp and adept, couldn't quite comprehend the sentiments that went along with the labyrinthine of Hannibal Lecter's thought process. Will shuddered at the thought of making an attempt at understanding the older man; it just couldn't be done.

Upon arriving at the hotel he'd checked into when he arrived in Italy, Will removes a plastic card from his coat pocket, swiping it against the door's lock system. Once a green light flashes, signaling that Will can enter, he tucks the card away and wraps his hand around the metallic handle. He pushes the heavy wooden door open and steps inside, beginning to take his coat off.

As soon as he walks by the bathroom door, he feels an arm wrapping around his torso and a hand reaching up to press a cloth against his nose and mouth. The fabric was sweet smelling, a fragrance he recognized as chloroform. Will's vision becomes fuzzy for a moment, though it doesn't render him unconscious. Using his elbow, he jabs it into the person's stomach harshly, and he's released. He grabs the wrist that had held the chemical-covered cloth and twists it, a shrewd crack ringing through the room. The intruder released a groan of pain, toppling onto their knees. Will spun around and stared down at them, glaring daggers at them. They appeared to have a mask on their face, hiding their features.

"If you would've done your research, you would know that chloroform takes minutes to work its way into the system and knock out a person," Will spat, taking out his gun from the night stand drawer. He pointed it at the person that was down on their knees and ripped off their mask. Will gasped. "Alana? What in the hell are you doing here? Why would you-?"

"She's here for me." Will froze as the front of a gun was placed against the back of his neck, the cool metal sending a shiver running down his spine.

"Good to see you too, Jack," Will muttered sarcastically. "If I would've known I'd have company, I would've gotten us wine and slices of cheese."

Jack pressed the gun harder against Will's nape. "Put down your gun, Will. Make this easier on yourself."

Will clenches his jaw and bends down slowly to set down the gun on the hotel's carpeted floor, Alana scooping it up with her good hand. His eyes narrow as he's standing upright again. So many thoughts and different inquiries bubble inside of him, though he keeps them to himself for now, and he remains guarded. "You shouldn't be here," he finally says, readjusting his plastic framed glasses.

"Shouldn't I?"

"Answering a question with a question suggests you believe my original question to be ill-formed or, quite simply put, stupid," Will says cooly.

Jack scoffs and sits on the edge of the hotel room's bed, his gun still pointed at Will. "I didn't come here to converse using Socratic methods."

"Then why are you here? Want to 'borrow' my imagination again?"

"In a way, yes," Alana butts in. "Though you already have the answers we're looking for. No evidence is in need of examining."

"I have nothing to tell," Will retorts. "I simply came here to escape from the grasps of the holds that bound me to a post I didn't want in the first place. And now, here you are, a gun pointed at my head. A bit unorthodox, wouldn't you agree?"