𝘐’𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵? 𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵? 𝘖𝘩 𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴. 𝘈𝘮 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴?
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You can read the rest here.
archiveofourown.org/works/633568...
Although it isn't quite finished, I think my fellow Fannibals will be satiated for a time, at least.
Adore you guys. See you in the next.
#hannigram #mafiaau

such a short distance was startling. The halls were padded to provide some soundproofing, causing the voices and music that surrounded them mere moments before to cut to a muffled din. Will took in a shaking breath. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘧

trailed after Bennett as he weaved through the crowd. People parted around him as easily as water around a stone; the profiler practically glued himself to his back as they made their way to a short hallway that lead to the private lounge and offices at the back of the club. The abrupt change in

Macallan 30 year waiting for you when we arrive - it appears Mr. Lecter has been keeping tabs on the length of the line. While his patience in these matters is quite long, it isn’t endless. Follow me, please.”
Will’s legs felt like rubber. He’d already made his decision though, and he dutifully

was at least twenty deep. There was no way he’d make it behind the bar without being dragged back into the fray. Bennett’s phone pinged. He glanced at the screen briefly before slipping the device back into his pocket.
“Change of plans, Mr. Graham. No need to wait in line. There is a tumbler of

defeat.
“I think I’ll grab that drink,” he finally acquiesced, turning back towards the bar. “Wait here a moment and I’ll be right back.” He turned back towards the polished wood of the bar and bit back a groan. Mark’s hands were flying to bottles with the speed of an Olympic hurdler, but the line

humiliation you caused him earlier. Would you rather face that, or wait until he can be properly dispatched while having a drink with one of your employers who has taken a special interest in both aspects of who you are?” 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬. 𝘈𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘱. Will’s shoulders slumped in

go, the sooner you will be able to tend to your dogs.” Will took another half-step towards the exit.
“I—”
“It would be unwise to refuse him,” Bennett added quietly. “The man you angered earlier is currently waiting on the sidewalk leading to your apartment, quite focused on revenge for the

agents at Quantico?” The ball in Will’s stomach turned to ice. “Our employer is very well aware of your full schedule, Mr. Graham. He’s gone to great lengths to ensure he would remain until you were no longer occupied, and he has many other things to attend to before his day concludes. The sooner we

wish to make yourself something to drink?” Will shook his head and took a careful step towards the doors.
“I am exhausted,” he tried. “It’s been a long day and I have—”
“Have to be in a classroom at 8AM sharp to teach the method of reading ballistics patterns in crimes of passion to a group of 32

suggested you make a drink for yourself before I escort you to his quarters. You may be there for some time.”
Will’s stomach tightened into a hard knot. 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵…
“Look, Mr. Bennett—”
“Just Bennett,” the other man interrupted. “Are you sure you do not

as I hear yours are quite famous.”
“Just the cocktail of the week,” Will assured him. “If you’re up for it, I can—”
“Our employer wishes to have a word with you before take your leave for the evening,” Bennett cut his rambling neatly off. “Although I will not partake at this time, it’s been

𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵?
“Hello again,” he offered. “Change your mind about the drink? I’m off but—” Bennett’s broad shoulders minutely relaxed at the ease with which Will spoke to him; a tiger in repose.
“Not exactly,” he replied, “although I may be inclined in the future,

security detail looked the same as he had before, except the sleeves of his crisp white shirt had been rolled up to reveal muscled forearms crisscrossed with scars. Surprise must have been plain in his features, because the other man’s tight smile grew into a genuine grin. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦

house, idly searching for his coat. Just as he pulled it from its customary hook, someone behind him quietly cleared his throat. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬.
He squared his shoulders and turned to meet Bennett’s empty, polite smile, just barely managing to match it with one of his own. The head of Mr. Lecter's

Glitter is the answer to all the world’s problems.

Ahhh, I've missed them. And all of you. Seriously, I adore you guys so much. Thanks for being here and reading this silly little threadfic. Until next time 🤍

Hearts and body parts,
-JM.
#hannigram #hannibal #threadfic