Devils in the Details

Chapter Eight // Confrontational Conversation

IN HANNIBAL'S TEMPORARY DINING ROOM

Mary Watson broke in through the front door, dressed entirely in black. Her blond hair was tucked neatly under her cap, and she was prepared for battle in her current ensemble. Just in the past several hours, she had caused her life to take a dramatic turn. Now it was just a matter of securing that this would not be a turn for the worse.

Hannibal sat at his dinner table alone as he heard the door fly open and the sound of her light footsteps coming towards him. He didn't turn around or say anything. Instead he cut off another piece of his meal and placed it into his mouth as his lips turned up.

Clair de la lune. He could smell it from the hallway. There was only one woman he knew who wore that perfume and would be willing to break into his house. He waited patiently for her to locate him in the dining room. It was past the normal dinner time, but he wasn't exactly a normal man.

Mary stormed straight into the dining room, raising a gun up to aim towards Hannibal's head. Her face was completely blank, devoid of emotion as if it had never existing in her heart to begin with. She said absolutely nothing, but her message was clear.

"Hello...Mary, is it now? Mrs. Mary Watson," Hannibal said, his lips curling into a smile.

Mary wasn't going to have any of this, no. He was mocking her, whether he was aware of it or not. At the end of the day, it didn't matter if he knew. The fact was that we was doing it, and that was enough to make her feel furious.

"Enough with the small talk, Hannibal," she hissed. "You need to listen to me if you put any sort of value on your life. From what I know, you do. I remember how your life was always far more precious than anyone else's. Well, keep that in mind tonight."

"You can drop the accent for me, you know," Hannibal said. "There's no use putting on a show."

"It's not a show anymore," Mary sighed. Although she rolled her eyes and shook her head, her arm still stuck out in a stiff line with the gun at the end. "I've actually developed this accent now, after living here long enough. It's not as if it matters, anyways."

"Fascinating," Hannibal said. "You haven't lived here that long, unless my memory decieves me..."

"I just killed a man tonight, a man that trusted me and considered me his friend. As a man who has a few friends, it's quite a predicament. But it's all because of your brother, Hannibal, and everything he has on me - and everything you have on me as well."

"What, exactly, do you mean?" Hannibal asked. "I don't wish to partake in my older brother's obsession with blackmail."

"It doesn't matter if you blackmail me or not," Mary said, calmly holding the gun out towards his head. Her arm didn't shake, her fingers didn't fidget. She was practically a killing machine at the moment. "All that matters is, you have the information that could very well ruin my life, and you also know people who could spread it places."

"I wouldn't dare," Hannibal said. "You know me better than that, Mary."

"I'm not so sure," Mary said.

"Then what, precisely, do you wish to get out of this?" Hannibal asked, clearing his throat.

"Here's how I wish this to go," Mary began, starting to lower her gun. "You keep my secrets safe, and you keep your life as well. You let my secrets go, and then you're as good as dead."

"I see," Hannibal replied, giving a slight nod of his head. He should've been expecting something like this. The real surprise was that it hadn't come sooner, really. Mary was one of the best at keeping secrets out of everyone he knew, and this was most likely one of the main reasons why. She was willing to rid herself of those who wouldn'tbe keeping her secrets for her.