[ He hesitates, but he starts to lead her towards the bathrooms, first by the wrists - a guide - and then a hand at the flat of her back. ]
Come on.
[ It feels wrong in a way, off-kilter for reasons he can begin to explain. It's just different, it's a different kind of smile she smiles, tears running down her face. Abigail Hobbs, ever-changing and colorful in ways that he can never fully understand.
It's been some time since she's felt like "his", something shared instead. She's been taken from him, and then she's been taken away from him. This isn't the Abigail he knows. Who knows what's been jammed into her head along with everything else?
He understands the fact that the only reason he's probably alive right now is because of Hannibal's skewed "affection" for him. An attachment, a mutual understanding between the two, of sorts. He no longer has that mutual understanding between himself and Abigail, though he's not sure he ever has. Something different between them has been created, sets his veins alight and squares his jaw. ]
What did you do, Abigail?
[ A low voice, a voice meant to be a comfort even as he refers to the blood coloring her hands. The fear is easy to sense, an innate feeling. It's what starts to make his touches more minimal, the hand falling from her back. They just walk instead. ]
spam
Come on.
[ It feels wrong in a way, off-kilter for reasons he can begin to explain. It's just different, it's a different kind of smile she smiles, tears running down her face. Abigail Hobbs, ever-changing and colorful in ways that he can never fully understand.
It's been some time since she's felt like "his", something shared instead. She's been taken from him, and then she's been taken away from him. This isn't the Abigail he knows. Who knows what's been jammed into her head along with everything else?
He understands the fact that the only reason he's probably alive right now is because of Hannibal's skewed "affection" for him. An attachment, a mutual understanding between the two, of sorts. He no longer has that mutual understanding between himself and Abigail, though he's not sure he ever has. Something different between them has been created, sets his veins alight and squares his jaw. ]
What did you do, Abigail?
[ A low voice, a voice meant to be a comfort even as he refers to the blood coloring her hands. The fear is easy to sense, an innate feeling. It's what starts to make his touches more minimal, the hand falling from her back. They just walk instead. ]