[Cheating, as long as it stays between the two of them, isn't so bad, is it? Nobody comes around with fleas or worse, and she can easily get him back later with...well, pretty much whatever. An offhanded comment, some public display, just about everything is fair play when Hannibal Lecter is nowhere to be found. Her arms around his shoulders are met with relaxing, not tensing, as if it was any other night they were winding with a little winding up. For all intents and purposes, his body language reads as in it to win it, in spite of the circumstances. Nothing can throw him—
—not even that. Up go the eyebrows, his lips twist into half of a smile, and if those three words had been "do you dare?" his face was answering that yes, yes, he did dare.
April's life was so difficult, he could feel that, could empathize, could also hold off on the juvenile, immediate reply that threatened to come out of him and make it more difficult: It.]
Say what, yes? I wanna make out with you? [Dangerously close to not being able to say anything at all, mouth too busy with something much better. Never mind that Abigail Hobbs is in something like dire straits and they were just talking about Frederick Chilton, of all people. He's going for it.] Yes. [He can just reach out and turn the communicator on its face if it gets to that point. Or she could roll him over and make sure eyes don't wander. It's not impossible to manage.] I really wanna make out with you.
[There was a moment where he almost said "I do" but those two words in a relationship of this sort are better reserved for...not this situation. The sexual aspect, not the sexual aspect while a hostage situation goes on and one member tries desperately to not whine about a future jailer. He goes with "really" in its place and unless April contests that, life won't be too difficult any longer because Will's proving he says what he means.
And, possibly, that he's in need of a shave. But if April doesn't mind the scruff, who is he to get rid of it with any consistent frequency?]
no subject
—not even that. Up go the eyebrows, his lips twist into half of a smile, and if those three words had been "do you dare?" his face was answering that yes, yes, he did dare.
April's life was so difficult, he could feel that, could empathize, could also hold off on the juvenile, immediate reply that threatened to come out of him and make it more difficult: It.]
Say what, yes? I wanna make out with you? [Dangerously close to not being able to say anything at all, mouth too busy with something much better. Never mind that Abigail Hobbs is in something like dire straits and they were just talking about Frederick Chilton, of all people. He's going for it.] Yes. [He can just reach out and turn the communicator on its face if it gets to that point. Or she could roll him over and make sure eyes don't wander. It's not impossible to manage.] I really wanna make out with you.
[There was a moment where he almost said "I do" but those two words in a relationship of this sort are better reserved for...not this situation. The sexual aspect, not the sexual aspect while a hostage situation goes on and one member tries desperately to not whine about a future jailer. He goes with "really" in its place and unless April contests that, life won't be too difficult any longer because Will's proving he says what he means.
And, possibly, that he's in need of a shave. But if April doesn't mind the scruff, who is he to get rid of it with any consistent frequency?]