mason you are tearing me apart

[verged]

[Look, man, I made the account. I didn't realize a Mason was going to friend you. This is legitimately not my fault. Don't go blubbering now. Is that too much to ask?]

I believe psychologists would have a great many things to say about someone who takes such delight in the torment of people, fictional or otherwise.

This is hardly a good idea.

Comments

[verged]

[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.

[politesse]

[ 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.

[verged]

[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?]

[politesse]

[ 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?

[verged]

[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.

[politesse]

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?

[verged]

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.

[politesse]

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?

[verged]

[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.

[politesse]

[ 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. ]

[verged]

[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?

[politesse]

[ 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?

[verged]

I was interested in a lot of things going through school; for a semester, I entertained the idea of being a gastroenterologist. The next, I thought pathology was the proper route. Eventually, though, I defaulted to family medicine. Little bit of everything, easy way to make a good living. Physical therapy was also an interest...I sort of dabbled in everything without picking a single one to focus on.

[Is that lazy? Maybe. But Cordell still had a great deal of medical knowledge, and he'd at least gone through school and gotten out with something that could people good. He could give back, even if it was mostly dealing with families who didn't know how to combat runny noses or wanted to know why their ears felt so clogged up. It wasn't glamorous work by any stretch of the imagination, family medicine, but it was necessary.]

Things happen, though. I'd actually like to open my own practice in family medicine, now that I can...give other things my time.

[politesse]

[ Lecter listens carefully, and he's even considering offering a legitimately helpful advice...

But then Cordell says that last sentence, and Lecter winces like the man's said his goal is to pet a unicorn. ]

Do you think family medicine would be wise, given the nature of your late employers' convictions?

[verged]

[Oh no.

Is he implying that Cordell has the same sort of depraved, despicable tastes that Verger had? That he would be going into family medicine for ulterior motives that were the opposite of help? Does he think...]

Are you— [He has to take a pause to gather his thoughts, because maybe he's wrong. Maybe he's just reading too much into it because of how it relates to Verger, and how wrongly it relates.] —that's not, he—we're not alike.

[Like that he might have added. But the further away he can be thought of as "like" that particular person, the better.]