seventeen ☼ spam {backdated}

[deshabille]

spam } barge, day 1

[Mal is memorable. Once, she was a creeping shadow of an aberration, her warden content to torment her into violence by depriving her of her blood substitute. She was quiet, passive, identifiable by her red-tinged eyes and the way she twitched at sudden noises.]

[The difference is stark. In the past week, she's gone through the door and changed entirely, her eyes bright and clear, back straight, outlook positively cheery. There is nothing about her reminiscent of the creature she used to be.]

[Frankly, even she doesn't know what to make of the change. So she investigates. All of her time is spent at the door on deck. She doesn't sleep - then again, she doesn't exactly feel like she needs to - and anyone who gets near it is as carefully investigated as the structure itself. She remembers nothing from going through, and yet something must have happened, or she wouldn't be . . . whatever it is she is now.]


( ooc; mal is affected for the desperate to deliver plot! her mirror barge backstory is here. )

Comments

[youwill]

[There is nothing on the network to tip him off as to their arrangement. It's the cup in his room that smells of her: that tells him everything. He makes a cup of coffee, and there is a several second hesitation in which he considers pricking his thumb to add a drop of blood.

In the end, he doesn't. Hannibal carries the cup and saucer with the ease of someone who has steady hands and long practice. The coffee is cooling by the time he finds her, and that is a shame; still, he comes to stand beside her, offering the up with his eyes on the door.]

Have you found anything interesting?

[deshabille]

[She is not terribly surprised to find Hannibal at her side. The scent of coffee, however, does surprise her. It makes her hungry. Or - hungry isn't quite the right word. Gluttonous would, maybe, be closer.]

Besides the . . . door? In the middle of the deck, just standing there? Besides that, I - no.

[She is distracted. It takes her a while to meet his eyes, and even when she does, her nostrils flare.]

You?

[youwill]

[She is more than hungry. He can see it in the flare of her nostrils, and he doesn't smile. Instead, he lets his eyebrows draw together, playing the careful friend.]

I'm afraid not.

Mal, should I not have brought this?

[deshabille]

[She hesitates. Wouldn't he know - but then maybe he wouldn't. She did her best to keep the details of her need for blood secret, what Esther didn't share, anyway.]

No. You probably shouldn't have.

It's all right. [Probably.]

[youwill]

I am sorry.

[He pulls it back, holds it in front of her. If only the cup was chipped, he would graze the pad of his thumb, and see what she does. But the lip of the cup is perfect.]

Would it be better if I tossed it over the rail?

[deshabille]

No.

[Quickly, quickly.]

Give it to me. [Now, now. She reaches.]

[youwill]

[He hesitates, plays the concerned friend uncertain if he has done the right thing.

Really, he wants to see how bad her desperation will grow.]

Are you certain?

[deshabille]

Yes.

[A snarl, the edge of teeth.]

Hannibal. You're not helping.

[youwill]

[He relents. He is not, after all, completely without compassion.

Pushing her too hard would give himself away, after all.

With a quietly chagrined look, he presses cup and saucer into her hands without a word.]

[deshabille]

[She drinks, and it is not polite or dignified or elegant. It's desperate. But when she is done - in just a few seconds - she looks up with more light in her eyes, greater attention, more wit.]

[A little concern.]

Do you know where Esther is?

[youwill]

[He has made the monster more human by giving in to her monstrous tendencies. It intrigues him. He hides it, and shakes his head.]

I'm afraid not. I believe she was last seen entering her room.

[She is another one he wants to speak to. Observe.]

[deshabille]

She shouldn't see you doing this.

[After a moment's consideration, Mal just flings the cup over the edge of the Barge. Better to have no evidence, she thinks.]

[youwill]

[That prickles at him, and he exhales slowly to keep his annoyance under control. It was a good cup, after all.]

She hasn't managed to spot me yet.