Arms Hotel, Sunday morning
Mar. 30th, 2014 02:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sharp_as_knivesHannibal 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!]
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!]
