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"Are you sure we should just sit around if there's a plague of mental illness ravaging the Barge?" Malcolm asks, glancing at him sidelong.

Will is still making eye contact, at least, even if his words aren't entirely making sense.

"Perhaps I want to keep you from poking and proding the temporarily insane for a few hours. Give them a fighting chance, at least, Doctor."

It's gently said, rather than biting. If Hannibal is significantly afflicted, Will doesn't want him at risk.

"Are you worried I'm going to take advantage of the situation to kill people?" Malcolm asks.

"Oh, hardly. I'm worried you'll take advantage of the situation to convince people to kill other people."

He leans over to kiss the side of Hannibal's head, clearly not particularly worried about that, either. "I'll make some tea. Do you have a preference?"

"...But you don't want to do that?" Malcolm clarifies.

Will stops and looks at Malcolm again, furrowing his brow. He's been trying to keep it light, but he's starting to get worried. "You know what I'm about, Hannibal. We run across another Mason Verger or Lestat or Dolarhyde, and I would love to make a masterpiece of them. Until then, I have to make do with you."

He raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms. "You didn't answer my question, you know. Where would you want to be, right now? If you could pick. Back to Florence?" The distraction is clumsy, but Will isn't operating at his best right now- and they both know it.

"There's nowhere I'd rather be than right here with you," Malcolm tells him honestly, though there's a note of sadness in his voice. It's not mutual; that's obvious.

Will watches Malcolm's face, frowning slightly in thought. But it's such a standard Hannibal answer that he decides to just leave whatever it is that's bothering him about it.

"Cop out," he jokes, but it lacks enthusiasm. His tone warms as he adds, "Thank you."

He tries to decide between puttering around in the kitchen and staying here- he ultimately decides to stay. "It sounds like most of the Barge believes this is magic. Maybe a curse. So our resident experts will have it figured out fairly soon, I'm sure."

"It's probably only a matter of eliminating the source. Does anyone know what might be causing it?" Malcolm asks.

"No," Will replies. "Or if they have an idea, they aren't sharing. Sounds like it would have to be something big to affect this many people in this strange of a reality at once. But that's...conjecture."

Will rubs at one eye. "I hate waiting, too, but- this is not our purview. We'll have to wait and see who's responsible, and if it was done with malicious intent or gross incompetence." He thinks about it, tilts his head to the side. "Or both, I suppose."

"What if it's malicious intent? Is that our purview?" Malcolm asks cautiously.

"It could be," Will says, looking from his hands up into Hannibal's eyes. Will isn't smiling, but it seems like he could break into one at any time. He blinks slowly, like a contented cat, and his voice is like velvet when he speaks. "Would you like it to be?"

Edited 2023-10-20 21:27 (UTC)

"Would that make a difference? If I wanted it or didn't want it?" Malcolm asks.

Will tilts his head to the side as he considers. "...it's merely a gauge of interest. No plans yet, but I'll keep you informed." As much as they ever did, with each other.

"That's not what I asked," he points out.

"No, it isn't," Will confirms, with a small frown. And here things were starting to feel Normal again.

His tone takes on a more careful edge to it. "You should know by now that you can't herd me towards any particular direction. But I will take suggestions into consideration."

“I see. But you won’t take everyone’s suggestions into consideration,” Malcolm points out.

Now Will is sounding downright icy. "No. Why would I? Playing by the rules hasn't exactly worked out for me in the past, now has it?"

“What about graduation?” Malcolm asks.

And now his mood is thoroughly ruined. Is that what Hannibal's trying to do? He's having mood swings, so he's putting Will through them, too. Will lets out a heavy sigh.

"There is that. Not that I see myself graduating anytime soon." He looks into Hannibal's eyes again, his own suspicious and calculating. "What are you getting at?" He's getting tired of this, whatever it is.

“I’m not Hannibal,” Malcolm says quietly, watching warily as he says it. “I’m not him.”

Will frowns even more deeply at that assertion. That didn't make any sense, with the conversation they were just--

There's a flash of light in front of his face, sweeping like a pendulum. And Malcolm's behind it, not Hannibal. Will's eyes widen and he backs up, almost tripping over the couch. "What- who-"

Malcolm’s expression crumbles and he gets up and opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, then opens it, then closes it.

Then he turns and runs out of the cabin, barreling blindly down the hall.

Unfortunately for Will, the flash continues, briefly changing the fleeing figure to Hobbs before showing Malcolm again. He sees- he sees--

He can't trust what he sees. He collapses to his knees and then sits on his heels. Winston walks up and licks his hand. Will hugs him, burying his face in the dog's fur.

It doesn’t take long after he stops running for him to realize he has nowhere to go. Neal is in a coma, Raylan is in a rage. He hasn’t seen Francis, but considering the state of his other friends, he’s afraid to.

He goes back to his cabin, steps inside cautiously, looks around.

“Will?”

Edited 2023-10-21 00:44 (UTC)

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