Cannibal's kiss (( Hannibal X OOC))

Old Friend

                                                                             ~A bar in Florida~

                 Will Graham rested his head on the cool surface of the bar listening to chatter of lively friends about work or relationships. A dull normalcy that he had grown to admire and desire with everything inside. Eighteen long years since his last run in with Hannibal Lecter and this was where he ended up. Once a decorated FBI agent rising in the ranks with his superb talent and ability in finding serial killers now a drunk who lost everything. All because of him. Will wanted to go back in time and just refuse Dr. Lecter's aid on the case. Had he known the ending of his unfortunate tale he probably would have, but he didn't. Stuck to wallow in what could have been without the guts of facing Crawford once more and becoming a detective. What use would come of that? Add another scar on his litter of internal and external ones? Possibly get himself killed this time?! No. He was done. Done with it all. More content to sip on the dulling effects of alcohol that rumbled in the bowels of his stomach and blocked everything out. In the morning when the high went down it would hit him once again along with a splitting head ache and he would turn to more alcohol just to forget it all. Forgetting. That seemed like a luxury at this point. Other people would be discouraged at the thought of amnesia but the idea was comforting as a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

             A voice pulled him from his thoughts and Will raised his heavy head to glance at the bar tender. With his head up the surly man with greasy black hair cut in an 80's style mullet began to mop at the counter with a wet rag stained with god knows what. The rolled up sleeve of his shirt slipping further upwards in the action  exposed an unnatural amount of black arm hair that he quickly covered as if embarrassed and shuffled away on heavy feet. Graham leaned in to get a closer look at the man's odd walk. Watching his knees almost smash together and feet seemed to point in an inward angle walking on the sides of his tan timberlands while dragging the gruff bottoms along the disgusting bar floor. 'Pigeon toed' was the common term for someone who walked in the odd manner. Simply meaning that the hips were turned in at birth causing the legs to become unaligned and instead of walking with toes pointed forward they were diagonal inwardly that gave them the appearance of a waddling pigeon. A completely livable condition and treatable with physical therapy but that cost money and considering he was working in this shit show? The guy wasn't really loaded. Wearing a white button up blouse streaked with mud or stained with drinks being tossed over the counters by enraged drunks being refused a constant flow of drinks. It dipped in a low V that exposed a mountain of curly black chest hair resting on the rim on full display. The end neatly tucked into a pair of blue jeans with a leather buckle keeping them up while he worked. The knees of the pants scuffed, probably from kneeling down to clean up messes. 

                   His face wasn't much to admire either. Pudgy cheeks a light crimson from his own consumption of beer and puffed out along the tight workings of his jaw and square chin with a crease going down the middle. A strong jaw line but it was hidden under the fat of his face and eyes seemed permanently crinkled, with his smiled the stretching of his lips forced up his cheeks and squinted his black eyes. Today they shone with calm amusement, clearly a good day as most of the time they were as dull as the lights hanging above. Some holding broken bulbs long since shattered in a tiff and others dying slowly their light no longer touching each end of the bar giving a dim amber spot light for whoever chose to sit underneath them. It was a pitiful place but Will called it home. To the forest green cushioned booths where couples nosily made out and.. well did what horny teens usually participated in. Or the rundown bathrooms that had been stripped of stall doors after a crazy crack head kicked them in on a K-hole rampage and it just wasn't worth the cash to replace them. Profanity was tagged along the peeling tan wall paper, most of which were spelled completely wrong but that was the amusing part of it all. No one really entered this place but goths looking for a place to get another high or teenagers trying so desperately to rebel. At the moment Will seemed to be the only adult perched at the bar stools which was why the owner often gave him extra attention and they had grown a correspondence over the many years. An understanding that neither of them were to bring up Hannibal or Molly and simply chat over topics that held no merit but meant the world to Will. Having a normal friend was all he wanted and the owner gave that to him. No questions asked.