Malcolm stirs fitfully, thrashes a bit, wakes screaming.
The dogs barely stir when he does these days. Sunshine, on hearing him wake starts chattering and flapping restlessly between perches in her cage and he looks over warily.
The shape of the man in the kitchen is wrong, even before detail comes into focus for him.
Sunshine’s warning - always when the bad thing is about to happen in his ‘dreams’ - a murderer in the kitchen. This is pretty bog standard night terror fare. He doesn’t assume it’s real. Still sitting up in bed with his restraints on, he considers Hannibal for a moment with a faint frown.
“You’re not my usual serial killer. What are you doing here?”
Re: Morning of the 9th
The dogs barely stir when he does these days. Sunshine, on hearing him wake starts chattering and flapping restlessly between perches in her cage and he looks over warily.
The shape of the man in the kitchen is wrong, even before detail comes into focus for him.
Sunshine’s warning - always when the bad thing is about to happen in his ‘dreams’ - a murderer in the kitchen. This is pretty bog standard night terror fare. He doesn’t assume it’s real. Still sitting up in bed with his restraints on, he considers Hannibal for a moment with a faint frown.
“You’re not my usual serial killer. What are you doing here?”