[the thing wails and screeches so much that he is relieved to have it quieted. the new wailing thing is Krouse. gloved hand slick with blood and remnants of gasoline when he returns. silent in the foyer while he listens, waiting. it isn't caution that has him lingering, it's curiosity. slow steady steps back into the living room to find the hurricane of what Krouse left in his wake.
surveying the scene, he's more displeased at how much he'll have to clean than he is worried about the boy in the center of it. careful steps over frames and paper as he maneuvers his way through it. crouching down next to his shuddering body, he cants his head, blinking slowly. maybe, just maybe a tick downward of his lips to indicate pity or concern.
the view is wonderful. this is Hannibal's doing, a creation as much as it is destruction. a bit of tit for tat. Clint's reaction to the plushie being destroyed hadn't been as severe, but only because it hadn't gotten to this point. he wonders what would have happened if he'd decided to kill the creature in his home.
a latex glove is removed from his right hand with a quiet smack and his hand is placed on Krouse's shoulder. a firm, reassuring grip. a reality check. in this sort of moment, one would expect a whisper or a coaxed sweetness, but his tone is strictly professional. a cold snap through silence.]
Krouse. [then his hand moves to wipe away hair and sweat and blood from the boy's face, to get a better look. to evaluate his pupils and focus.] Are you with me? You should be coming down.
gross: the thread
surveying the scene, he's more displeased at how much he'll have to clean than he is worried about the boy in the center of it. careful steps over frames and paper as he maneuvers his way through it. crouching down next to his shuddering body, he cants his head, blinking slowly. maybe, just maybe a tick downward of his lips to indicate pity or concern.
the view is wonderful. this is Hannibal's doing, a creation as much as it is destruction. a bit of tit for tat. Clint's reaction to the plushie being destroyed hadn't been as severe, but only because it hadn't gotten to this point. he wonders what would have happened if he'd decided to kill the creature in his home.
a latex glove is removed from his right hand with a quiet smack and his hand is placed on Krouse's shoulder. a firm, reassuring grip. a reality check. in this sort of moment, one would expect a whisper or a coaxed sweetness, but his tone is strictly professional. a cold snap through silence.]
Krouse. [then his hand moves to wipe away hair and sweat and blood from the boy's face, to get a better look. to evaluate his pupils and focus.] Are you with me? You should be coming down.
[and you made a mess.]