dear_mun | mason you are tearing me apart

[ Hannibal's definition of fun isn't very conventional. ]

I could easily point out he spent the majority of his life dedicated to recognizing my... contribution to his health.

[ A dark, amused smile. It's more than clear he's very pleased with himself. ]

I never intended to help him, nor did I. You did, though. Not only did you keep him alive, you kept him from destroying himself.

Why? Don't insult me by trying to say you did it for the money.

[the money

God, the things he could say about that. He could go into some sort of detail about the money, about the reasons, but Cordell doesn't need a psychiatrist (yes he does). And if he did (he really does), it wasn't like he could tell another soul (but Doctor Lecter, apparently) the reasons behind the issues and memories that would crop up whenever he was asked questions (that he was paying to be asked, unlike now).

Don't insult him. What has he been doing to Cordell all along, though?]

Honestly, Doctor Lecter; I'm flattered by the interest, but I don't think my brain is one that needs to be picked apart.

[In either way, but he won't be so rude as to point that out.]

I've got a good wealth to my name now and I still have my degree. Whether he left me a dime or a million doesn't matter; I'm out. I'm on my own again.

I would have sent you a polite thank you card, but I know you don't stick to the same address long enough for it to matter.

[ Playing, fiddling, trying to see how the thing works. Assuredly, Cordell would know it when Hannibal was actively insulting him. For now, he's given the doctor no reason to want to.

He's only curious. His curiosity stings, but that's because he's prodding wounds that are already there, not making new ones. ]

I'd much rather you thank me with some candor, Cordell, if you truly think I deserve your gratitude.

[ He thinks he does, but probably not the way Cordell would expect him to. Hannibal won't demand it from him, either, because gratitude is only pleasing when it's voluntarily given. He doesn't expect a thanks, nor does he need one. He'd only think better of the other man's manners if he did. ]

It's clear that you resented him, and I don't blame you. He's always been very hideous. What's interesting is he had to die for you to finally leave him behind.

I know what he was, Cordell. I know how he must have treated you. The only thing I wonder about is why you ever allowed it. I don't think any amount of money could cover the price of degradation, and neither do you.

[I'd much rather you thank me

So he would like a thanks, or so Cordell reads into it. A thank you card was meant as a joke, because really—how could he thank him? How could he say it, and also...how could he ever meet him again to do as much? A man like Doctor Lecter (though he supposes there aren't many like him, and thank God for that) didn't exactly stay in one place for too long, did he? He didn't have his name listed in the phone book. Cordell couldn't rightly just look him up like he could most anyone else. And, besides, inviting a man like him to lunch didn't seem the most sensible course of action.

For anyone, not just someone like Cordell (though he supposes there aren't many like him, and even then he thinks he much prefers there not to be because he can't be such an exception; he's not all that special, after all).]

I am grateful. [And maybe his voice cracks again, but can anyone blame him? He worked for a monster, he felt like a monster, and now he owes the clean slate he's been granted to yet another monster. Definitely not the kind of man who needs psychiatry, not at all.] Is that why...you're asking so many questions? Because you know I am and that I'll answer them, even if I don't want to?

[One doesn't deny Hannibal Lecter what he wants for too long, after all. Cordell may have done stupid things in his life (and a good deal of them), but he's not so stupid as to realize that avoiding a topic he's so intent on for very long is anything but a stupid course of action.

He just got his life back, after all. He'd like to keep it as best he can.]

[ There are always ways to get in contact with him, if you're clever. ]

I'm asking because I'm interested.

[ Simple, though there's a faint, amused smile. There are a lot of things that can be inferred from that particular question. ]

If you don't want to tell me, you only need to be honest. This is a conversation, not a tribunal. I'd find your evasiveness demeaning if I didn't think he made it your natural habit to shield your discomfort in things he'd actually pay attention to.

The law, for example, is what you chose to hide behind. He feared its repercussions, didn't he?

I do not. And it's far too late to protect yourself by pretending you believe in it. Not with me, anyway.

[If he's clever? That burns, Doctor!

Cordell has spent a good deal of his recent days avoiding being honest about a great deal of things. At least, not about anything that he thought outside of a professional (medical) opinion. Being honest gave away too much, and Verger didn't need anything else to hang over his head. And, after a while, the idea of being honest even to himself grew too riddled with nothing but misery for Cordell to consider.]

Your former patient feared several things. [He doesn't even want to call him by his name. He can hear his own name in that bastard's awful voice a hundred times a day, even though he knows he's long gone. Now, when he hears it, there's an undertone that grates against everything in him. The name his parents gave him, all but ruined. He'd go for "our former patient," but he hardly thinks putting Lecter in his own company is a good idea. Cordell barely likes his own company.] What do you think I'm trying to protect myself from, Doctor Lecter?

[Being tear-stained sirloin, maybe?]

[ Don't be offended, Cordell - be clever.

Lecter would be amused with "our patient", but indeed, it would imply they share some form of connection to one another. But is there really no truth in that? ]

Don't ask questions you don't wish to receive an answer for, Cordell. I'm also well aware of when someone is trying to test me...

[ His tone, until now fairly pleasant, darkens a little dangerously with that particular word. ]

Edited 2013-05-03 02:28 (UTC)

[He's a doctor, Goddamnit. He's...kind of clever? In a way?

Mason Verger connects them, certainly. But he has to be careful, doesn't he? Carefuller than he's been in a long while. This isn't an employer who can bark at him but can't actually bite. There was the risk that Cordell might speak, even though that would ruin him as well.

He could have always had him killed, if it came to that.]

I'm not trying to test you. [Is he? Is he really? Maybe he's just trying to find out whether or not Lecter's interest in him is, ah, healthy for Cordell.] Most of my tests are done in labs; I like to keep it there.

[ You'll figure it out, Cordell. After all the years you spent helping Mason try to stalk him, you must have picked up on at least some of his tastes, what magazines or medical journals he reads regularly....

Clarice Starling asks Barney, his orderly for all the years he spent in Chilton's dungeon, how he had survived Lecter when many other authorities that handled him ended up dead. She couldn't believe it could be as simple as civility.

Hannibal finds himself occasionally amused by how people try to work around the fact they're terrified of him. ]

Is that where you'll go next? A lab? After being made to adapt to living in the dark, I shouldn't be surprised if you shy from sunlight and the blare of white light.

Edited 2013-05-03 02:54 (UTC)

[Cordell can be civil. It's odd to see him, it's odd to think of what in the hell he must of think of him after seeing him push a man who wholly relied on him into a pit of starving and vicious boars, it's odd that he found himself caring what Lecter thought of him in the first place.

He's not sure if he's terrified by the fact of the matter that Hannibal has done what he's done and is what he is, or if he's terrified because he actually cares in some way what a monster thinks of him in the first place.

Once, he'd cared what Verger thought of him. Then he learned just how despicable a creature he was, and he couldn't tell if he stopped caring or just grew to believe that Verger didn't care about—and then, weren't they back to his original questioning?]

You keep asking after me, Doctor Lecter. I'm fine. I wasn't left anything in the will, so I'm more than fine. Are you doing well, though? In this...whatever this all is?

I apologize if my interest in your health and well-being after an emotionally traumatic event offends you.

[ Hannibal has a way of getting under the skin, it seems. Call him what you like, but he's harmed and helped people. Hannibal would like to know what Cordell thinks of him, how he sees him now. What did he look like, muzzled by the mask, striding so calmly through the boars meant to be his demise while their handlers and commissioner screamed through the crunch of their bones? What does Cordell think became of the unconscious woman he carried, away from the carnage, in his arms?

He's curious, though the other man's opinion of him really is inconsequential to his self-esteem. His smile broadens a little, almost looks warm. ]

I'm doing well, thank you. I enjoy meeting new people and being able to chat with old acquaintances I wouldn't otherwise be able to, outside a cell.

I've even spent some time talking with alternate versions of people I once knew.

Edited 2013-05-03 03:50 (UTC)

[Cordell tries not to think about it too much. But, just like the underlying lilt of Verger's voice whenever he's called by name (he prefers Doctor over anything else, and not because he took all those years of school and earned the title), it's not something that stays away for very long. There's a lot of things slowly eating away at him, things that he tried to ignore for years, and sometimes...well.

Sometimes he wonders what would have happened if he tossed himself into that pit after he pushed his patient in.]

Does your mundane let you out often? Are they one of those types to want to shoehorn you into a game?

[ Having a sense of guilt, or sympathy, is hard on a person, Hannibal's observed. ]

I'm not caged, and when it comes to the 'games', as you say, a prison is still a prison, hence their other colloquialism: jamjar.

We both agree we'd rather be free-range and open to the occasional house call.

Why? Is that something you're worried about?

Edited (stop spelling whyyy) 2013-05-03 04:10 (UTC)

[So is greed. And greed gets a person into tight spots, and sometimes they can't really get themselves out...

Until they hear their name called in a different way than usual and—well, what was he supposed to do? Leave him there to watch, who would care for (in the physical sense) Verger then? Everyone was dead or dying, screaming bloody boar murder. If he had just left him there, he would have been as good as dead. He would have died from thirst or hunger unless someone found him.

He knew without a doubt he'd never have wheeled himself into it. He thought too much of himself to commit suicide, even if it was a mercy.]

They have some strange lingo, I agree. Particularly when they're outraged about something or another.

[He wants to quip: Why would you being placed in a game worry me, Doctor Lecter? It's got nothing to do with me. But that's...he's already treading thin ice. He can feel it, even if it doesn't seem obvious. There's no need to start a fire in the middle of a frozen lake that's already sloshing about as it gets back to its usual, liquid state.]

Free-range is always good. You get your best meat and poultry from cattle and chickens that haven't been cooped up [No pun intended] and kept in conditions of misery their entire lives. Nothing wrong with wanting to see the view outside as long as you can and as much as you can.

Edited 2013-05-03 04:25 (UTC)

[ Sometimes, greed gets you thrown from a balcony, not knowing which you'll die from first: a broken neck or from feeling your bowls spill out into a public square. At least it wasn't that kind of greed for you, Cordell.

At the double entendre, he side-eyes the other with some dark amusement. ]

Did you humor his iniquities as well? You must have; it's easier to cope if you're able to laugh about it.

Perhaps I mistook you, though - you did leave out pig.

[Is it okay if Cordell and Hannibal only ever meant in one-story buildings? Without basements, too. Just. Big, public, one-story places? He's grateful, you see, but he's still aware of who (what?) he's dealing with.]

I don't eat pigs, I'm afraid. [He's seen footage from things like running with the bulls; he knows they can gore people, he's not stupid. But he's never seen it himself. After watching boars bred to, essentially, feast on human flesh? He's not so keen on anything to do with them.

Even Babe alarms him to some degree.]

You'll find [if they continue to speak, of course, here or anywhere else] that my vocabulary has changed considerably. Why say something if you'd rather have no contact with it in general, does that make sense?

[He's not crazy, right?]

[ Hannibal is usually indulgent, if requests are made civil enough. He doesn't mind letting others think they're secure from him until a reason arises to prove them wrong. He doesn't need to be violent in order to hurt someone. ]

Mm. Like Mason Verger?

[At least he'd be putting in effort, right? But that could be misconstrued as insulting, and putting himself up on a pedestal.

After all, Cordell hardly finds himself interesting, and he's spent a great deal of time hiding any interesting (morbid) information away and never speaking of it.

...maybe that's part of the interest, if he thought about it.]

Yes, among other things. [...] I was actually relieved to be granted nothing in his will, if I can be honest.

I notice you did say 'Doctor Lecter'.

[ What's to be inferred from that, hm? ]

I will never penalize you for being honest. [ Just being rude about how you give it. You're good, so far. ] Why relieved?

You're a doctor; it seems the proper way to address you, considering we hardly know each other.

[Why would he not be relieved? Not one mention of him in the slightest, and nothing with Verger's name in his life anymore other than a former employer who met a terrible end.

In the eyes of anyone else, of course. It was really quite fitting...it could have been worse. Maybe should have been. But Cordell can't really say after all he's done and aided, can he?]

There's nothing to tie him to me now, other than the name of someone I worked for and memories. No dirty money [dirtier, really] or leftover furniture to have to see to dispose. I didn't even get to listen in. I heard it had been executed and figured out that if I wasn't involved, then there was nothing for me in it.

A fresh start, mm, from the baptism of his blood on your hands. Who would have thought?

[ He says this easily, almost fondly, as if ruminating on the culture behind a painting. ]

I suspected you might have gotten to know more about me than you ever cared to learn. True, 'Dr. Lecter' is what I tend to prefer, you weren't wrong in that, Cordell.

But why say something if you'd rather have no contact with it in general?

[How many times had he Verger's actual blood on his hands, though, doing medical work? Cleaning a wound? He didn't bring him into the world, but he kept him in it. Cordell could have ended his life multiple times a day—who more fitting to commit the crime, really?

At least, if Lecter wasn't going to do it, Cordell would be a very fitting second.

He's going to breeze on past the fact that he has more knowledge of Hannibal that he rightly should, if he possibly can. If he's allowed.]

I'm having contact with you right now, aren't I? It would be ridiculous to speak to you and refuse to use your name. In my opinion, at least.

[ No, Lecter believes Mason Verger's murderer was exactly who it should have been. If Cordell had been allowed to sit out of the show, as he'd tried to, that night, Mason would still be alive now. If Hannibal had wanted Mason dead, he would have been a long time ago. ]

There's no reason for you to speak to me if you don't wish to. You could have told me you'd rather not associate with me.

No one would blame you.

[ Especially not dear Will, a few threads above. He's a testament to the dangers of befriending Lecter. Then again, Will did try to incarcerate him. Trying to kill him for it was only fair, Hannibal thinks, perhaps even unfortunate in his eyes... Until he'd been in the dungeon a few years. ]

[If Mason had been dead a long time ago, Cordell would never have gotten as "involved" with such awful things as he had been. Was that part of the point? Turn Mason into a monster outwards and let him infect whoever he came across? Suffering not just for him or anyone who looked at his body but...everyone he came across?

Not that he'd ever ask.]

I don't mind. [Honestly, he doesn't. He owes his new life to a total monster, he knows, and after spending so much time in the company of one, you'd think he'd want to be as far away from them as he can. Ah, but maybe there's some literary thing behind it, getting away from one at the aid of another (who, granted, only offered his name as the criminal and no one would question otherwise, not that he helped him do it physically). There's no reason to be completely rude, is there? And acting like he doesn't owe him anything, even as civil a conversation as he can nervously make one, is something Cordell thinks would be very rude.] Do you mean like no one other than a jury would blame me for what happened in that pit?

[ Well, if he doesn't ask, Hannibal certainly won't tell. He can give away a lot of information, with or without permission from the parties he tells, but he doesn't usually volunteer information about his own motivations. ]

Just so.

[ A faint smile. ]

But I'm glad you don't mind. May I ask what you practiced before becoming a private physician?

mason you are tearing me apart

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