Aquamarine

9. Antipasti.

Amidst the dim light cast by the flickering candles, Will's countenance wore a veil of detachment. His eyes were remote, as though he had withdrawn into some unfathomable inner realm, impenetrable to my gaze. I observed him keenly, taking note of the supple movements of his frame, evincing a deep mastery and comprehension. It was apparent that he had dissociated, having sought refuge within the recesses of his mind to shield himself from the atrocities of the crime scene.

Yet, there was more to him than met the eye, something that eluded my extensive experience in observing human behaviour. There was a subtle change in his expression, a fleeting glimpse of a sensation that evaded my grasp. It was as though he was undergoing a profound revelation, surpassing the mere act of disconnection.

Fascinated by this unexpected turn of events, I scrutinized him, recognizing that Will Graham was unlike any other man. He possessed a rare and invaluable depth of insight and comprehension. As I beheld him, I felt a deep sense of respect and admiration for this enigmatic being.

In that moment, I discerned a kindred spirit in him, one who perceived the true nature of the world, unafraid to confront the darkness that lay within the very essence of human existence.

As he withdrew further into his dissociative state, I recognized that I had discovered a companion.

Hannibal's gaze was like a knife, sharp and unyielding. I could feel it slicing through my skin, penetrating deep into my soul. It was as if he could see everything, all my fears and insecurities, all my darkest secrets. And yet, I couldn't look away. There was something mesmerizing about him, something that drew me in despite myself.

I tried to resist him, tried to steel myself against his penetrating stare. But it was no use. His eyes were like black holes, sucking me in and swallowing me whole. I could feel myself drowning in them, lost in the endless abyss of his gaze.

It was like he was trying to read my mind, trying to unravel the tangled mess of my thoughts and emotions. And somehow, he was succeeding. I could feel him peeling back the layers of my psyche, exposing me to the harsh light of his scrutiny.

But there was something else, something that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Was it admiration? Respect? Fear? I couldn't tell. All I knew was that I was both drawn and repelled by him, like a moth to a flame. 

There was something alluring about him, something that made me want to stay in his presence, even as I knew it was dangerous.In the end, I knew that I had a choice to make. I could either turn and run, or I could stay and face him head-on. And as I looked into Hannibal's eyes, I knew that I had already made my decision.