Hannibal's house to the Arms Hotel, Thursday evening

[sharp_as_knives]

Yesterday, Hannibal had been out of sorts. Unaccountably angry, he had taken a number of people’s business cards, deliberately given at least one patient advice that was bound to cause problems in her marriage, and given a professional colleague the rather sharp edge of his tongue. He had very much wanted to indulge in other hobbies, but maintained just enough sense to know that it would be a bad idea in that mood — which, naturally, made him even angrier. His basement wasn’t pretty now.

Today, though, he couldn’t shake a general feeling of unease. What if he had let something slip? What if Jack Crawford began to suspect him? Other things worried him, too: what if Will stopped agreeing to see him? What if Will were convicted? What if everything went wrong?

He cleaned up after his previous day’s rampage thoroughly, made absolutely certain the house was perfect, put on a good face for his patients, then packed quickly. If anything should happen, what if the plans he’d already put in place weren’t enough? Fortunately, he had a new alternative if he should have to lose himself for a while.

Taking enough for several days, Hannibal called ahead to the Arms Hotel, reserved their gourmet suite, and drove to the island causeway, making plans the whole way there. There were questions of banking, real estate, access... He had work to do.


[OOC: Mood crystals help with foreshadowing! \o/ Hannibal will be staying at the hotel for at least the weekend. Open for meeting him on the causeway or in the hotel, or phone calls and whatnot.]

Comments

[trigons_child]

Raven wasn't leaving the island until whatever was affecting Jono was stopped, but after dealing with all the rage, Jono's and her own, she needed to take a short break. Taking a walk to clear her head was working a little, though how close she'd come to doing serious harm to Jono was refusing to leave her thoughts, feeding into her fear that it was inevitable that she'd turn on her friends.

As she rounded a corner near the hotel, she felt an unpleasant wave of anxiety. It had a familiar taste to it, but one she didn't know well yet. She couldn't ignore it, of course, so she began to trace it to the source, and was surprised to find it coming from Hannibal as he walked to the hotel from the opposite direction. She'd never picked up on any strong surges of emotion from him; he'd always felt very calm and in control to her. That, coupled with what she'd experienced with Jono, made her concerned.

"Good evening, Dr. Lecter," she said pleasantly as she drew nearer.