Arms Hotel, Sunday morning

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal woke up feeling no different than the night before, until all the memories started flooding in. Growing up a woman; growing up with no uncle, stuck in a Soviet boarding school; growing up with his entire family, in France; being himself, with Sparkle his willing protégé.

He scrubbed his face with one hand and shoved it all to the back of his mind long enough to make coffee. Then sat drinking it, remembering, cataloguing every detail so as not to forget.

If there were a few parts that got especially fond treatment, that was nobody's business but his own.

Around noon, he made a phone call and sent a text message. Then he just sat and went back to thinking.


[OOC: Open to anyone who wants to drop by.]

[ETA: Therapy session NFB, please!]

Comments

[justlurkinghere]

Derek dragged himself on out of the house after his morning to get to the hotel. He knocked on the door, waiting for an answer.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal answered and nodded to him. "Mr. Hale." He waved Derek in. "I wasn't sure whether to expect you today."

[justlurkinghere]

Derek shrugged at that, walking into the room. "It's been a strange few weeks."

[sharp_as_knives]

"That it has," Hannibal agreed. He closed the door behind them and went to get glasses and water. "I must apologize for our lack of sessions, but there were several weeks recently when I was not, in fact, a psychiatrist."

He set the standard glass and pitcher by one of the seats, then waved at it. "Unless you would prefer something a little stronger. Unorthodox, perhaps, but given recent times, perhaps not unwarranted."

[justlurkinghere]

"Drugs don't work on me," Derek replied dryly. Because check those awesome werewolf powers.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Not always a good thing, I take it. Water it is, then." Hannibal sat, watching Derek. "Did you change as well?"

[justlurkinghere]

"My family was alive and I was incredibly cheerful." It was scary. "And then I was normal except I dressed like a drunk frat boy."

HE HAD FEELINGS ABOUT HIS FASHION, OKAY?

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal grimaced in sympathy. "Yes, one of my other versions didn't have the best taste, either." He was looking at YOU, cheap Lithuanian mobster! Honestly, he wouldn't dress the way the artist-him had, but at least that was some style.

"Is it difficult, remembering the person you might have been without so many tragedies in your life?"

[justlurkinghere]

Derek sighed, looking away.

"I didn't recognize myself. I didn't--have the relationships I have now."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Hardly surprising, given such a significant change," Hannibal answered. "Which version of yourself do you prefer?"

[justlurkinghere]

"I don't know," Derek replied. "Either way I'm losing people."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Does it help, knowing that you have things now that you wouldn't have if they'd lived?" Or did it just make you more guilty like a guilty thing, Derek?

[justlurkinghere]

"No." Because he was so very messed up to even want the things he had. So, so messed up.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal folded his hands and sat back to look at Derek. "Would it be better if you had nothing good, no advantages, although they still were gone?"

He was not judging you, Derek. But it wasn't easy.

[justlurkinghere]

Rude!

"One of the things I have here," Derek said carefully. "Is the beginning of a relationship. He's a student."

And there's where it's creepy.

[sharp_as_knives]

That...certainly could be creepy. It depended on several factors. "Tell me about him."

[justlurkinghere]

"What about him?" Yeah, be protective, Derek.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Wherever you would like to start. His name, perhaps, or how you came to be in the beginnings of a relationship?"

You brought it up, Derek.

[justlurkinghere]

"Stiles," he replied after a moment. "He's... we're both from Beacon Hills. He's from a different one than me."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Ah." Hannibal nodded. "He has taken my classes." He'd seemed fairly level-headed at the time. And he was at least old enough to have an idea what he wanted.

"He's from your hometown, but a different version of it?" he asked, to clarify. "Did you know your version of him before you arrived here?"

[justlurkinghere]

"He knew me, I didn't know him." A beat. "We didn't get along. For a while."

[sharp_as_knives]

"What changed?"

[justlurkinghere]

"I don't know. We became friends somehow."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Because of your shared background, or in spite of it?"

[justlurkinghere]

"Probably the reason we were friends," Derek admitted, taking a seat in one of the chairs.