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[versusnurture]

spam } open

[The mask is secured in her room before she goes anywhere. She goes back to check on it frequently, bordering on obsessively, straightening it in its place of pride hung above her desk. She wonders what it's like to live life, day in, day out, in a few square feet, never allowed to breathe free air but through that grille. It's so much easier to imagine through Hannibal's eyes than Will's. She never imagined it would be.]

[She knew there was another man here who went by his name, but he never seemed real. Now - even though this artifact was never his - now it feels like a real, possible future.]

[What she doesn't do is lose time. She walks with even breath and utter confidence, anywhere and everywhere, feeling the simple joy of movement. She is afraid of nothing. She looks people in the eye, even if only for fleeting moments as she passes, and she doesn't even consider pulling a scarf on over the scar on her neck.]

spam } alana

[There's no way Alana doesn't have questions. Abigail doesn't feel obliged to protect many people, but Alana - she's been lied to all this time. Longer than Abigail was lied to. Hannibal was a colleague. And now . . .]

[There are probably worse ways to find out, but Abigail can't think of any. Besides death at his hands, anyway.]

[After a silent struggle with her conscience, she grabs the keys to Alana's room and hurries there, letting herself in before she can change her mind.]

spam } ben

[Eventually, she finds herself in the chapel. She has no question that Ben knows what's happened, or at least that something's happened. There was that brief moment of breathlessness, open for all to see on the network, and he'll have seen that even if he didn't watch her go with Dillon later.]

[She sits cross-legged in the pew and looks clear-eyed at the opposite wall. After quite a while - an hour, she thinks, maybe a little bit more - she sends him a message.]

Need your help with something. Not an emergency. You can walk.

[Then she turns the communicator off, lays it beside her, and waits.]

Comments

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[Ben has been withdrawn lately, though not in a necessarily dangerous way. He's not losing time either, he's just isolated and quiet. He did, as it happens, see the breathlessness; he did follow Abigail as far as the chapel, saw Dillon enter, waited ready to intervene.

But nothing had happened and, because his interest is safety and not investigation, he'd abandoned the chase at that point, confident Abigail would reach out to him should she need him. And here's the text now.

He does walk, as it happens, and it takes him a while longer to track her down because he uses his own familiarity with her rather than his warden item. The X5 balks a little at the entrance, though it takes the form of a smooth stop, a small hesitation, and then a smooth start again.

He hesitates again at the end of the pew Abigail is occupying.]

Hello, Abigail.

[ Spam ]

[versusnurture]

[When she hears his voice, she looks up, everything about her brightening just a few watts. When he hesitates, so does she, every movement and fidget echoing his.]

Is it okay? To talk in here. It feels safe.

[Just today. She doesn't know why.]

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[warisart]

[The brightness helps, though that won't show on the surface yet. He looks around the chapel as if gauging it, gaze scanning for threats, for potential threats, for places where threats could hide or where he and Abigail could take cover if one presented itself. Then he looks back to her.]

If it is not, I will make it safe.

[He moves, then, to sit beside her and doesn't hesitate anymore. She's his. He will protect her with everything he has at his disposal and more still if he must.]

How can I assist you?

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[versusnurture]

[She smiles at him. Doesn't move closer, for him, though if it was up to her she'd lean on his shoulder now, let herself rest. She rests sitting up. She can do that for him.]

[She's sure she's made some mistakes today. But better to let him know about them, at least; better let him hear from her than someone else.]

Dillon . . . gave me something today. A mask. And I don't know what I should do with it.

I know what I want to do with it. [Keep it. Mount it. Treasure it.] But he asked me if I'd be safe with it, and I said yes, and now . . . I don't want to have lied.

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

Hannibal Lecter's mask?

[It's not so much a question as Ben telling her that he was watching, that he saw. He was paying attention. He suspects she already knows, but it's important that he tells her for certain. That he not be hiding the fact that he's paying attention.

He barely understands the significance of it, of the mask, of her possession of it. She's too complicated for him to try to guess, and he is fortunate that he trusts her to do exactly what she's doing now: reach out to him if she can't handle it. It's even more important that she doesn't want to have lied to someone she just met, but Ben merely holds onto that knowledge and focuses on what else she's said.]

What do you want to do with it? Why are you afraid you won't be safe with it?

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[praesidium]

[Winston is the one who reacts to the keys in the door first. He stands up and immediately trots over to sniff the bottom crack of the door to investigate. It gives Alana just enough of a warning to wipe away stray tears, wipe her hands on her dress and stand up from her desk chair.]

[She knows it's Abigail - she's the only other person with keys - but Alana still has a look mixing surprise and confusion all in one go all the same. Abigail is, more or less, the last person she would expect to see.]

Abigail, hi.

[She doesn't bother with asking if everything is alright. There are quite a number of things that are not alright right now.]

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[versusnurture]

Alana . . .

[It'd be a lie to say she had a speech prepared or anything like that. How do you explain this? How do even the most sane and stable of people explain something like this? How do they lay it out all in a line: this is how I was lied to, and how I lied to you in turn; this is how I was locked in place like a cog into another, how I was betrayed, this is how I died. How do you tell someone that you knew, you knew, and you didn't tell them? You let them lie for you.]

[She doesn't know. What she does know is that Alana should not have had to fight against Hannibal. Nobody fights Hannibal and wins.]

[Not yet, a little voice whispers. But someday. Someone will. She thinks of the mask.]

[She finds her voice.]

He was the man on the phone, Alana.

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[praesidium]

[He lied. Of course, he lied.]

[He lied about what happened with Nick Boyle. It hadn't really occurred to Alana as a negative thing though. He felt protective of her - or so Alana thought - why wouldn't he want to try and cover it up? He just did what he thought was best. He's human. He makes mistakes.]

[He used to be human to Alana. He used to make mistakes sometimes.]

[But now he lies and Alana doesn't know who or what to trust right now. She has Abigail Hobbs in her room ready to tell her whatever she wants to know most likely. It should be a truth that lightens the way Alana feels because it means Will is innocent. But that's not enough. This is so much worse.]

You killed Nick Boyle. But it wasn't Nick Boyle that hit me on the head, was it?

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[versusnurture]

No.

[She swallows. She will not cry. She's cried enough. It's not her time right now. Alana - Alana's all alone, or thinks she is, and everything is a lie, and Abigail can't cry in front of her. Her eyes are wet but she's not going to cry, she swears, God, if she can just keep calm - she can.]

[She swallows again. Shakes her head.]

No, it wasn't Nick Boyle who - it wasn't. It was him. He did it. I needed help, and he -

[She pulls her hair over her shoulder instinctively, to cover up the scar, running her hands through it and through it until it doesn't even feel like a real texture anymore.]

He said no one would believe me. [She hadn't known what was happening. Everything was - red. Under her nails. In her hair. There was some on her cheek that she almost forgot to wash off because she thought it was a freckle. But she never threw up like they said you did in movies because she gutted him, she meant to do it, it was him or her, it was self-defense, but it wasn't.]

[It wasn't.]

[It was Hannibal.]

[She doesn't say I'm sorry.]

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[praesidium]

[Alana turns away from Abigail and leans on her desk.]

[Hannibal was the man on the phone. He attacked Alana, covered up a murder. Those two things alone weigh so much heavier on her than knowing what he did to people here. She believed him to be a respected colleague, a close friend. Someone that she could rely on and trust with anything. That's why she gave the recommendation for Will to be under his care. Because she cared about Will and though she couldn't put herself in that position to watch over him in the way he needed to be, she thought she could trust Hannibal to do just that, professional agreements aside.]

[He lied about the call. He lied about Nick Boyle. There's one last piece of truth still left buried though Alana knows what it is without having to look it in the eyes.]

[Alana's knees start to buckle and she falls heavily into her chair again. She closes her eyes, resting her forehead on clasped hands a moment. Winston trots over and sticks his head in her lap and stays there for a few seconds before anxiously moving back to Abigail. Eventually, she opens them and looks up, but she doesn't look anywhere near Abigail, keeping her back to her.]

Who killed you, Abigail?

[routemistress]

[Abigail isn't someone Iris seeks out. Her brief conversations with the girl have felt like trying to stroke a cat that's scooting backwards under furniture; Iris isn't always the most sensitive person, but she's capable of respecting that.
Nonetheless, the glimpses of the complex intelligent personality have been fascinating, so when she sees Abigail in an apparently nonscooting mood, she catches her eye and grins.

Iris' dogs, more outgoing still, wag their tails and start to move forward; Iris, mindful of skittishness, lays a hand on Elvis' back. The two German Shepherds aren't leashed, but the touch is enough to hold them back, though every line of their bodies speak of friendly eagerness.]

'Ey Abigail. All right if me lads say 'ello?

[versusnurture]

[One thing Abigail isn't skittish about: dogs. She has good associations with them now, after Winston and all the dogs on board, Digby especially, so after a moment's hesitation, she crouches down slightly to dog level.]

That's fine. [Which means she really, really wants them to. Puppies!!]

[routemistress]

[Elvis and Solace, starved of human contact and affection in their younger years and now buttressed by Iris' confidence behind them, surge forward, wriggling and whining with almost uncontainable pleasure in their newest friend. Iris looks on, softly smiling, leaning on the hallway bulkhead.]

They like you.

[There's a now-unhappened timeline where a young girl was butchered like a rabbit and the smiling dogs she loves ate her. Iris wonders if Blaire Roche in her returned future will grow up anything like Abigail; the symmetry of dogs and girls pleases her enormously.]

You seem better. I'm glad.

[versusnurture]

[Her hands run over the dogs' heads, ears, backs lovingly. She didn't realize that she liked animals until she was given a chance to, here. Before, she always connected with them . . . dispassionately. Here, there are so many, and they calm her down.]

[Dog ears are soft, she thinks. Like little velvet triangles designed to make you feel good.]

[She does raise her eyebrows at Iris's comment, though not in a particularly nasty way. Another day, she might be nasty. Today, she's surrounded by dog velvet and there's the taste of violence in her mouth.]

It's a temporary state. [Although each temporary state seems to be lasting longer, greater time passing between crises; she doesn't say this, and her expression doesn't change, but there is hope in there somewhere, buried under her skin.] I didn't realize you were paying attention.

[routemistress]

Change is a constant. We're in a nearly closed ecosystem 'ere, my love; I pay attention to everything alive in it.

[Iris feels so much more grounded, contented with her dogs. Their emotions and hers feed back into each other; she hadn't, she thinks, valued their simplicity of emotion nearly as much as she should, before.]

Ben too. You're being good for 'im. It's a new sort of confidence; like a butterfly's wings uncrumpling and drying. 'E's a very different kind of warden than I am. Then again, Victor's nowt like you, so that works out.

[She smiles, softly and unfocused on anything happening here and now.]

'E gave me stained glass for Christmas. I feel like I should make 'im summat nice with it.

[It's not a question; it is a space left open for suggesions, should Abigail feel like putting one in.]

latest spam but i don't care

[worthyofalittlework]

[Royce, typically, keeps to himself as sort of a dark hooded specter. Albeit, short, dark hooded specter. He's very similar in height to Abigail and really, he's not a big man under his layers of black and greys. He usually doesn't voluntarily start conversations but it's the scar that catches his attention.

As a very, very small courtesy, he approaches her from the front. Where usually he approaches everyone from the rear without a sound.]

They were interrupted, weren't they? The one who tried to kill you. [He uses to two fingers to indicate his neck.] Did you kill them?

SHRIEK this tag delights me

[versusnurture]

[She would have tried to gouge his eye out with her pin, had he approached her from the back, so really - overall, it's a good beginning. As it is, she tilts her head at him curiously.]

I didn't kill him. Someone else got there first. [She wonders something new: if she would have killed her father, if he had gone after her. A curious question. It's never occurred, and she doesn't know.]

How did you know he was interrupted?

ROYCE HAS THE BEST REASONING

[worthyofalittlework]

It's clean slice but doesn't extend beyond one side. [He mimes the motion on his own neck.] A slice that clean isn't an accident but a professional wouldn't quit half way through. Something happened.

The angle says they where larger, you would have had an advantage.

OF COURSE HE DOES

[versusnurture]

[She smiles, a secret little smile, her fingers curling at her side to keep them from drifting up instinctively and covering the scar.]

He wasn't that kind of professional. He did mean to kill me, though.

Someone just shot him about ten times before he could do it. [Dismissively, she shrugs.] There was a lot of blood, but I didn't die that time.

You're the first person who's asked me outright, you know. What happened. Why do you care?

[worthyofalittlework]

[Royce has not been introduced to guns yet but he wouldn't be surprised by them. As it is he assumes a crossbow or fast firing weapon he's unfamiliar with was used.]

There's always a lot of blood.

And I don't care. I was curious. I've seen a lot of cut throats and your scar is peculiar. I can see the intent but it was never finished. There's no mark of hesitation. It's... odd.

[He drifts to the side, turning his head and looking over the scar again.]

I assume someone spared your life but I wonder why. What did they want something from you?

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[persecutioncomplex]

[Abigail went off Touko's list as soon as Ben did, after she let him touch her and knew who she thought he was wasn't. She doesn't need to lurk around corners for him any longer, and Abigail only mattered to her insofar as she was his innmate.

That doesn't mean she isn't watching her now, though, catching her the third time that day, on the stairs this time as she tries to watch her steps below her and her book under her nose as well as the people around her. She's taken off the camouflage: Touko can see it in how her body doesn't deliberate any longer, simply does, and in a world where she's been arguing with someone almost every day about who she is and isn't, that sudden difference in the girl she remembers and the one she sees today is a magnet.

If it's the same girl. Ben has a man who shares his face, who couldn't be more different, so she has to rule that out first, before she tries to worm out of her what changed. Her head snaps up and she tries a cool, nonchalant stare (unsuccessful, almost immediately looking away).]

I- I wanted to ask you something.

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[versusnurture]

[She glides as if on glass, turning on her heel to look over her shoulder at Touko. They were never close. Probably could have been, if things were difficult - if they had different kinds of individual neuroses that didn't cross purposes - if Abigail hadn't initially sighted Touko as the kind of prey that bites back - if Touko hadn't been gone for so long. But by now even Abigail's unlearning the fiction that what was is what will always have to be.]

[Slowly, she turns her entire body to face Touko, attentive if wary.]

I'm listening.

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[persecutioncomplex]

[The courage to ask took everything that was in her, and now that she can approach, she doesn't know how she should, how not to give away the reason for her interest. Evasion only works when she has time to plan, delete and overwrite every word, so a long, nervous breath shivers out as she looks for the perfect question.]

What movie did we watch when I first met you?

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[versusnurture]

[She raises her eyebrows in surprise, but otherwise doesn't react. It's a paranoid question, but then, this is a pretty good place to be paranoid, all things considered.]

Vertigo. I had to leave in the middle to get more popcorn from the dining hall so I missed the flashback.

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[persecutioncomplex]

[It's the truth, and something in her uncoils at the first world, so relieved her knees unclench and she drops an inch in height. In that rush, she can't go over her plan again, rewrite the next question to suit context, and lets out what only doesn't sound like an accusation because she's relieved.]

What happened that you're happy, then? It's like you aren't yourself, but...