'' Repeating History ''

'' Coping Mechanism ''

He sighs, noticing everyone is looking at them currently.
     “Go get in the car. I’m going to finish up here and then take you home.”
He turns and walks away from them before allowing them to get out another word, and stand there for a while, before getting too cold and waddling to the car. Curling up in the passenger seat, they melt as the warm air flowing through the car heats them. Slowly, they drift off to sleep. Only waking when they feel the car in motion, though not the moment it begins to move, as they find that their superior has already driven them back into the city by the time they’ve collected themselves and taken in their immediate surroundings.

They whine and rub their tear-stained face, sniffling and shifting in their seat, sitting more upright and slowly blinking the sleep from their puffy eyes. They don’t say anything. Feeling the awkward tension in the air that lingers after their earlier outburst. They couldn’t help thinking about it. Wondering if they had made a mistake in saying what they did. Even if they kind of did feel that way.

As they’re thinking, their eyes are shifting around the surrounding landscape, though swiftly realizing that they don’t know where they are, their brow furrows. Just then they pull into the parking lot of some fancy-looking office building. Confused, Bowie turns to look at their boss. He didn’t return their gaze. Just parked the car and got out, instructing them to follow him inside.

They do so. And although hesitant, they don’t know what’s going on, so why shouldn’t they? He might need backup or something.

As they get inside, Bowie swiftly begins to realize what’s going on, especially when they spot Hannibal standing in the lobby talking with the lady behind the reception desk. He notices the pair entering the building, and his polite smile widens slightly. Mischief glinting in his eyes.

Bowie's heart drops into the pit of their stomach. Their eyes begin to water again, though this time with fear. Their boss had tricked them and brought them right to the den of the beast. They felt like death was looming over them, and their legs were growing weaker by the second. Turning into jelly beneath them until they almost trip over their own feet, needing to steady themselves. Standing there like an anxious child hiding behind their father.

     “Detectives. How lovely it is to see you both. Is there something I could help you with?” Hannibal questions in a calm and polite tone. It made Bowie nauseous enough that they gag audibly, earning a stern glare from Carter, who signs before returning his attention to Hannibal.

     “I was hoping maybe you had a bit of free time and would be willing to see Bowie. I’m willing to pay extra for the session if–”
     “That won't be necessary,” Hannibal interrupts, raising a hand dismissively.
     “Are you sure? It’s really no trouble to me, and I feel awful for walking in like this,” Carter says, almost insistent that he pay extra for the service despite Hannibal’s dismissal of the offer.

The psycho Psychiatrist gives a cordial chuckle of amusement. Shaking his head.
     “As I said, that’s not necessary,” he repeats. Then turning his attention to Bowie.

Those dark eyes still hold a look of something predatory. At least to Bowie that is. Whenever he looks at them, it feels like he’s plotting their death. And who knows, maybe he is. They swallow nervously, and his eyes narrow softly for only a moment, before relaxing. He beckons them to follow as he takes a step backward.

     “Come along then, Bowie. I’m sure you must have a lot on your mind,” he says, turning and walking toward a hallway, which would supposedly lead to his office.

They stand there for a second. Frozen in fear. Until their superior touches their back, making them flinch violently and swiftly jog after the psychiatrist. Their heart pounding hard and fast in their chest. Anxiety building. Nausea bubbling in them and threatening to burst forth quite literally, as they fight the urge to vomit all over the nice interior of this office space.