Cometh the Man

Breakfast

Everleigh had always been an early riser. The moment the first cracks of light started to fight their way through the curtains, she was awake, and the first morning in Panevezys was no different.

Beside her, Clarice was still sound asleep, which wasn't a surprise to her – she was only a light sleeper and was fully aware that her mother had slipped from the bed before midnight and hadn't returned until the early hours of the morning.

Everleigh showered and dressed before wandering out into the small parlour.

She didn't expect to find her father asleep – she already knew that his sleeping patterns largely resembled her own.

All the same, she wasn't expecting to find him standing by the door, buttoning his jacket – fedora on his head.

"Good morning," he greeted her. "Ah, good. You're dressed."

Everleigh nodded. "Are you going out?"

"I am. I have a... breakfast date, shall we say?" Hannibal nodded. "Or at least, I hope I do. I suppose it would be rude of me to assume, without asking a lady first."

"Well, she's still asleep," she told him, gesturing back towards the bedroom.

"And rightly so. As a matter of fact, I was rather hoping you'd give me the pleasure of your company. What do you say?" he asked, taking her jacket from its hook and holding it out for her step into.

For a moment Everleigh considered him, as if gauging his sincerity before she smiled and moved to stand beside him, allowing him to help her into the jacket.

"There's a lesson here, you know? When you're older and a young man comes to take you out, always ensure he helps you into your coat," he told her, opening the door and standing back to let her pass. "And holds the door for you, too. If he does not, do not go – he won't be worth your time."

Everleigh pulled a face, disgusted. "I won't be going anyway."

Closing the door behind them, Hannibal allowed himself a small smile.

Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

∞∞∞

"There's nobody else around," Everleigh observed, when they were sat outside a small café on a cobbled street in Panevezys' old town district.

As she had pointed out, the street was empty for the most part, save for the odd passer by – a woman moving up and down the street in the hope of selling single roses to no one in particular, and an elderly man out for his morning newspaper, being trailed closely by a three-legged cat.

"The best time of day, don't you think?" he asked.

She nodded, cutting into her pancakes.

Hannibal stirred some milk into his tea before he spoke again.

"I suspect you are wondering why we're here?"

Everleigh shrugged her shoulders. "I guess. Am I in trouble for not staying where you told me to?"

"You're not in trouble," he shook his head. "But, do you understand why I was unhappy about it?"

"Because I didn't do what you said?" she surmised.

"And why do you think I asked you to wait outside?" Hannibal pressed.

Everleigh thought about it for a moment.

"So nothing bad would happen to me?"

He inclined his head.

"Sorry," she said softly, looking more than a little sheepish.

"It's alright," he assured her. "And in any case, I think I might owe you an apology. I perhaps did not appreciate how you were feeling. Sometimes you act much older than your years, and I suspect I must try harder to remember that you are still a child."

"Clarice says that too," Everleigh mumbled thoughtfully, taking a sip of her orange juice.

The woman with the basket of roses passed them by in that moment, hovering at the table.

Hannibal dug into his pocket for some loose change, tossing it into the basket and accepting a pink rose in return, which he promptly offered to his daughter.

"Will you accept my apology?" he asked.

Everleigh laughed, nodding as she took the flower from him.

"You'd better get one for Clarice too, you know?" she pointed out.

"I think," he began, gesturing the woman back. "That you are right."

"Is she still sick?" she asked, returning to her pancakes.

Hannibal shook his head. "No. She'll be alright, now."

"Well... what was wrong with her?"

He hesitated, debating whether to continue with the conversation, but Everleigh watched him intently.

"What was happening to your mother was... not a sickness, per se. Or rather, not in the normal sense of the word," he began, carefully. "It was... inflicted upon her. That is to say, it was done deliberately by somebody."

Everleigh frowned. "Somebody was trying to make her sick? But why?"

"It is rather complex. And not something you need to worry yourself with," he told her. "All you need to know, is that it is done with, and he won't be able to hurt her again."

"He? The same man who came to the apartment yesterday?" she guessed. "It was that policeman, wasn't it? The one who came to dinner?"

Seeing little use in lying to the girl, Hannibal inclined his head.

"But, what did he want?" she asked.

"Money," he said, simply. "It is, as they say, the root of all evil."

Everleigh seemed to accept that answer, and pondered for several moments then before she spoke again.

"I know we weren't gonna stay there forever, but I liked Vilnius," she said, softly.

"And you will like the next place just as much – if not more," he assured her. "There is a lot more... space."

"Where are we going?"

"That," he began, stowing the rose he had purchased for Clarice safely in his pocket. "Would be telling."

∞∞∞