Colliding worlds (Hannibal x OC)

And nothing but the truth

Hey. Lots of dialogues here because Frances had to come clean regarding her status if she wants to keep Will as a friend. Let's see how poor Will swallows the news of time travel, shall we?

— "Are you calling my driving dull?"

Will's mock outburst sent Frances into a fit of giggles and she relaxed in the passenger seat. There was nothing common between Will's car and Hannibal – standard and smell included – and nothing remotely similar regarding their driving. Where every single move from her husband was controlled, Will's driving bordered on carefree, his trajectory tilting when he wasn't careful. It didn't matter much, though, for the design of the road and automatic gearbox rendered driving as easy a child play. Somehow, it irked her.

— "Nah. It's not you. It's just ... those straight roads that never end, and your cars bigger than horse butts ... and this automatic gearbox ... it's like you don't even have to drive anymore."

— "It's convenient," he replied, eyes leaving the road to take a peek at her frustrated features.

She almost looked childlike as she pouted.

— "It's boooooring. Boring to death. There's no control with an automatic, I hate it when a machine takes decisions in my stead ... but it's not like you need any on those endless roads. I bet the Victoria falls are narrower than your motorways"

Will's eyebrows climbed to his hairline, surprised by the unexpected venom in her voice. The empath wore his emotions on his sleeve, another streak that couldn't be more opposite than Hannibal's. As for Frances ... she could be as open as him, or closed off like an oyster with a poker face that rivalled Hannibal's. It had taken a while for him to get used to her duality and it felt like he was coming close to the conclusion. Somehow, the mask had a purpose. And in his presence, it tended to drop to reveal the real, chatty and slightly emotional Frances. Especially when she ranted about the US.

— "Driving is dull anyway ... it takes you from point A to B, right? What do you need control for?" he said.

— "I don't know. I just... My car is my tool, you know. I take care of her, and she responds to my desire. An extension of my will..."

— "So is mine. A tool. Just a machine"

Taken aback, Frances tried to make sense of the anger that simmered under the surface. Her silence was misinterpreted as Will's fingers drummed on the steering wheel.

— "Say it. You hate my driving! That's why you insist on shaking me like salad in a bowl in your blue devil of a car."

The sudden plea shook the cogs of her mind and she jumped in her seat to swat Will's arm.

— "No! Silly. And my driving is energetic, not salady!"

Will gave her a sly look.

— "So you say, my stomach disagrees."

— "Ah shut up. You're just a baby... I just miss Europe."

The empath smirked, satisfied that his mock offence had coaxed her into spilling her guts.

— "What do you miss?" he asked, trying to impersonate Dr Lecter's tone.

It worked, for Frances started talking animatedly, her hands flying as she described her beloved continent.

— "Everything. The historical buildings and ruins you will find at every turn, the cobbled streets and narrow roads, the stone churches and old farmhouses."

— "Yeah?"

His interjection was just for show... Frances wasn't even present anymore as she described places from memory. Things of the past that seemed out of her grasp altogether, and brought her as much joy than sadness.