Cannibal's kiss (( Hannibal X OOC))

Danger on the Horizon

                  Clarice Starling approached the desolate bar situated towards the crime riddled side of town where several other reject restaurants had set up shop, mostly to cater to the drunks and crazies that would enjoy partaking in drugs while in such dismal conditions. This was where the famous Will Graham had ended up? She knew that after the Tooth Fairy incident he had run from the agency trying to avoid another tragedy. It clearly hadn't worked, from the files she had pulled up, his wife Molly had to be institutionalized and Will had a rap sheet for disorderly conduct and public intoxication. She took a cautious step forward already feeling out of place with the expensive leather bag tugged close to her side and revolver tucked into her waistband where the cold metal bit at her flesh. Pushing open a creaky door the top hitting a little bell which gave a little jingle greeting. No one looked up besides a man with an unsightly mullet and an inhumane amount of body hair. He waddled over on heavy feet and rested two meaty arms thicker than tree trunks on the bar. Nodding a greeting but saying nothing and she couldn't see a smile or grimace under the mountain of bristly black hair that sprouted under his nose and covered his lips leaving just the wisps of a pink bottom poking out. Clarice moved past him to sit next to a dazed man with straight messy blonde locks and sun kissed skin. He held the outer appearance of a surfer dude but when he shifted to raise his head only slightly she noticed an unsightly scar, white against his tan flesh and resting just below bleary blood shot eyes. Will Graham. The complete opposite of what had been hung up on a wall of exemplary officers in the Quantico office. There was a man with neatly gelled down blonde hair with the roots a natural brown. Eyes were clear blue pools of knowledge and ambition as he gazed beyond the glass frame and seemed to be staring down a perpetrator with a cold stare. His face was clean of any scars in the older picture and paler than it was now, having not been exposed to much sun while doing police work.

               Clarice remembered staring up at the image with a box clutched in her firm arms imagining that one day she would be up there beside him. Someone for new agents to gaze up at and stare with awe. To look up to and wonder when their recognition would finally come. However the mess of a man slumped drunkenly over the bar seemed to shatter those foolish dreams. Was this all that lay in her future? A broken ambition and endless exhaustion? The pitiful display of what once was a bright man.

"Will Graham? I'm Clarice Starling.."

               No answer. Just a grunt of acknowledgement and the shuffling of his faded and unwashed baby blue jeans on the cushioned seat. His head hidden by a curled arm but she could see that one eye was exposed and watching her. Within it's stare was a familiar intelligence and curiosity. The gaze of a detective taking in everything in a matter of minutes and seemed to be piecing together thoughts and questions. This was what she was looking for, a flash of familiarity but Will seemed unimpressed sinking his cheek further against the counter till it smushed up against his lips and puckered them together.

"Uh.. I work for the FBI-"

"Yes yes. I know that. No don't get your wallet out. I can see your firearm bulging against your side. And you certainly don't dress like the people who enter this bar." He paused his nostrils flaring as if trying to smother himself with her scent. "Clearly not rich from that cheap ass perfume but you do well for yourself. Wasn't the greatest idea to bring that purse to a place like this though. Just asking to get robbed. Besides. I've heard of you on the news."

                 He slid across an older newspaper which held an image of her, hair frazzled but tied back and being supported by a fellow officer. Blood streaks painted along her pale cheeks and eyes wide staring at something off camera. Underneath it was the body of James Gumb, or formally known as 'Buffalo Bill'. Clarice placed an open palm over the image of his corpse with an uncomfortable shudder. She didn't like taking lives, but it was part of the job, didn't mean she'd stare at em all day.