[ One glimpse of the person with Javert draws Hannibal out of his morose stupor. He sits up, eyes momentarily wide in surprise. It's not Mason. It can't be. He doesn't reek of swine. But the resemblance is uncanny and it's enough to briefly draw Hannibal's upper lip back in a silent snarl.
Oh, yes. He will devour this man. Javert shoves him forward and Hannibal snaps his fingers at him, an imperious command that he continue over to the chair. The man comes, eyes blank. When he reaches the chair, Hannibal starts to gesture him to lean down and then pauses.
It isn't polite to drink alone and the best gifts are shared.
Taking the man's wrist, Hannibal slices across his forearm, deep enough to bleed freely, and offers it to Javert. ]
Drink with me, Javert. [ His hand is at the man's neck, ready to haul him down to be bitten, but still Hannibal waits. ] To days gone by and the lives that used to be.
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Oh, yes. He will devour this man. Javert shoves him forward and Hannibal snaps his fingers at him, an imperious command that he continue over to the chair. The man comes, eyes blank. When he reaches the chair, Hannibal starts to gesture him to lean down and then pauses.
It isn't polite to drink alone and the best gifts are shared.
Taking the man's wrist, Hannibal slices across his forearm, deep enough to bleed freely, and offers it to Javert. ]
Drink with me, Javert. [ His hand is at the man's neck, ready to haul him down to be bitten, but still Hannibal waits. ] To days gone by and the lives that used to be.