[ hungryteeth ]

   corners of the mouth twitch, electricity humming along a pulled wire line–sharp
  teeth expose just under the soft tug of lips. suggestion, as well intended and softly
  offered as it is, is chum in deep water. he has not fully relayed messy childhood
  dealings to his better half, has not informed her of swan-lakes and beatings to the
  back of the skull, has not divested unto her broken-belly, spilling intestines, war
  criminals murdered in revenge, and not out of cool hearted whims …

he reacts to nothing, it’s monstrous. resonating fractures of an utterly tidy
youth–he’s been considerably less erratic, but just as quieted, just as tem-
pered, just as cold and unflinching, smiling in the face of danger. hannibal
wonders if that good inspector popil is even alive anymore.

             ‘ —–wonderful. i may have a bit of, hm,
          sightseeing to do. it’s been a very long time. ‘

                       [ They killed him. ] ✕✕ 

        inamorato’s cant of lips is consciously mirrored by counterpart.
    sightseeing, as one might put it, is equivocal in the nectarean maw
    of his, but clarice proffers only narrowing of eyes. what affairs are
    his shall remain his; no blood, of stranger’s or foe’s, will stain her
    hands when she is to be focusing on the true sights france has to
    offer. mayhap the car savant will hear the roar of a v8 bugatti in
    truth. ( starling was a car buff, as anyone who saw her car could
    tell. )

        musings aside, rube no-longer sets down aforementioned
    newspaper and folds slender digits together atop crossed lap. 

        “ paris is out of the question. too obvious,” she muses aloud,
    straightening spine against chair’s rigid back  as keen eyes scan the
    setting horizon.  “i don’t—” purposeful pronunciation of first word
    buries the stubborn  west-virginian drawl,  with its unnecessary
    erasure of words, “know much about the country or where to
    go, but i’d like to be near plains.”