darkly_dreaming: (syntheticsmile)
(Book!verse) Dexter Morgan ([personal profile] darkly_dreaming) wrote2015-01-24 01:27 pm

Crossing Lines-- Dexter/NBC's Hannibal RP

WHO: Dexter Morgan (BOOK!VERSE post Dexter is Delicious), Will Graham (CANNON POINT HERE), Later: Hannibal Lecter (Cannon point here)
WHEN: Set roughly during the hunt for The Shrike
WHERE: Minnesota, various locations
WARNINGS: Likely? Murder's gunna pop up somewhere.

Rita's death hit Dexter in ways he did not expect; he'd never had any illusions of truly caring for the woman-- true he preferred her alive; the children were naturally fond of her and she was a fantastic cook (one of Dexter's favourite traits) which lead Dexter to appreciate her life. It was a pity that she was gone, and while Dexter himself was seldom capable of real sadness, he could see the sorrow of his children as well as feel a kind of lingering disappointment. The kitchen didn't feel right without the scents and sounds of Rita's bustling cooking, and Astor and Cody drifted the sunny bright halls like pale sombre ghosts.

It had been Deborah that suggested a change of scenery-- that they might all feel better if they got out of that house. Dexter had barely conceded the merit of the thought when the job offer came. The title of Special Forensic Consultant came with a nice pay bump, which Dexter found hard to refuse considering the three little mouths he was now solely responsible for feeding. The thought of working for the FBI brought a small devilish grin to his face-- considering the Florida FBI had been sniffing around him for far too long now. Getting out from under that scrutiny was just one more reason that moving to Minnesota made sense.

Things fell together nicely; Brian helped them move, which the children seemed to enjoy. They secured a cozy place, enrolled the children in school and extracurriculars, and found a babysitter for Lilly Anne. Things were nicely smooth by the time Dexter came strolling into his new work space, friendly smile placed perfectly, box of fancy doughnuts in hand. He smiled and offered one to the secretary at the front desk, as well as any other person who caught his friendly gaze.

The man's fashion sense was still overly Miami-- his bright loud rayon shirt decorated with grinning sharp toothed sharks, swirling waves, and waving palm leaves. It might have seemed odd, and maybe Dexter needed to tweak his mask, but his strange shirts were just one more carefully selected part of his persona. People saw the colors and marked him 'lab geek' before looking too closely-- noting his extremely athletic form and killer's logic. Besides, how could someone be evil wearing such cheery, colorful clothing?

It was about time to get down to work, so armed with a half empty doughnut box Dexter made his way towards the offices he had been instructed to, wondering quietly if he'd be lucky enough to get his own office again. Easier to look at things he wasn't supposed to with no one over his shoulder.

Turning the corner, Dexter spotted a somewhat grim looking man, with dark brunette hair and darker frames for his glasses, seemingly engrossed in the contents of a splayed manilla folder. His imitation of friendliness was flawless-- it had only taken all his life to perfect.

"Good morning citizen; working hard, or hardly working?" his smile brightened as he offered the box to the stranger and flipped open the lid. "Isn't it too early to be working without at least one good sugar rush?" Dexter slipped into the chair across the table, discretely peeking at the glossy photos and written reports splayed about. Hopefully something interesting... he grew so bored of the messy mundane slashers with no real vision.
nataraja: (007)

[personal profile] nataraja 2015-01-24 07:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Teaching doesn't suit him. The rows of blank, nameless faces were ones he could cope with but not properly deal with. Some of the best and brightest would walk through the doors of his lecture hall but Will would never know the difference, never register quite how they carried themselves because he looked through them. What came naturally to him were when the lights came down and he scrolled through the gruesome photographs that would never quite do a crime scene justice for any of the rookies sitting in those seats. They've been exposed to death, to lifeless corpses, but do they have the minds to cope?

"What does this crime say about the killer?" Through the sterile halls of the office space utilized in Minnesota Will disappears into the photographs spread out across the table, the manila folder just off to the side. A bead of sweat pours down his brow but he wipes it away with his sleeve and hunches over slightly to move one picture of the way for the next. "Tell me who you are."

Dexter's footsteps are audible, Will registers them, but he doesn't glance up. In fact, Dexter's greeting completely bypassing him, Will turning his head off to the side as if the pendulum swinging in his mind is trying to erase away the distraction in front of him. It doesn't work. That sharp, poignant imitation of friendliness makes the special agent's stomach churn. And then he sees the girls clearly for the first time. All the wind-chaffed skin strewn across the table and he can finally picture the beauty they have in common. Perfect trophies. Perhaps even imitations of one the killer already has.

Will jerks back in his seat, the sound of the box lid startling him from his thoughts as he warily glances to it. He waves a hand dismissively, shaking his head. "People hardly like me without energy." One thing to note is that while Will looks over to Dexter invasively sitting in the seat opposite him he doesn't make eye contact. "You must be the snake." He states in a low tone, a half smile coming across lips before it disappears. "New agent." He reaffirms. "Jack's office is just around the corner." He jerks his head off to the left.

There is little to say other than that as he reaches forward to push another photo out of the way. They've all been taken. No trace left of them. A map rests off to the side of where the girls were last seen. Dark eyes, heavy lidded, behind glasses focus on the locations but--he dismisses them as unimportant. No, this man is hunting. Sorry, Dexter, Will isn't the type to make conversation, especially with anyone as eccentric as this man appears. He gets enough of that from Katz.
nataraja: (013)

[personal profile] nataraja 2015-01-24 08:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Breezy pleasantries often come off as facades to Will but then his gauge of proper social interaction is subpar which isn't surprising for a man who lives out in the middle of nowhere in Wolf Trap, Virginia. Conversation makes him nervous, it grates on the surface of his skin demanding that he focus his energies on others he might rather not take any interest in. In short he is a man who values his solitude, and his time, in a way that puts most off or--as in Dexter case--makes them curious to see what lies underneath.

Will nods, his eyes momentarily flickering back to the box. Perhaps later after cup of coffee to sober himself out of listless, jaded fatigue. As with the rest of the team, they were working against the clock. They needed to catch the Shrike before he had a chance to kill again. "Special Agent Will Graham." He offers as a greeting, once it's confirmed that this is indeed their new recruit. Jack saw it as a questioning of his authority but Will saw it as an opportunity to distance himself from crime scenes. He had already been pulled from this line of work before and he can hardly stomach it now.

"It's what I do. Think." he responds non-committally but sits back and removes his glasses to clean them, half intrigued by the man's forwardness in handling case files on his first day. Who knows if he has even been debriefed on the specifics yet. Midway through cleaning the second lens Will stops, his gaze trained on Dexter while the other man can't meet his eyes. He knows that posture. He has seen it before in one of the only people he actually does pay attention to.

Hannibal Lecter. Smooth, calculating, and incredibly insightful but this is different. Different how? He can't quite place at the moment but there, as Dexter speaks, Will gets his answer.

For the first time their gaze meets and Will doesn't automatically look away. As they say the eyes are the window to the soul so what does that analytical gaze say about Dexter? Well for one it says that he is more qualified than Jack will probably believe. He goes back to his glasses, replacing them on the bridge of his nose. "Yes he--uh." He straights in his seat. "He cherishes each and every one of them while looking for the prize or maybe he has already found it. They're either perfect pieces to add to his repertoire or him chasing the thrill he had when he finally found his golden ticket." One thing that will get him to converse is his job, so Dexter has him there.

"What else do you observe?" The curiosity comes from being surrounded by individuals who see but never observe. Think about this like a job interview, Dexter. Not only does Will get to see if his theories are sticking, but he also gets to gauge just how much they will be able to rely on a new addition to their already cantankerous task force. Having a buffer between Jack pushing Will may smooth the tension and urgency of the investigation. "Tell me your design." That last line is the teacher in talking but this may be the first time he has met someone how has the same aptitude he does for solving murders.
nataraja: (015)

pfft that's fine. i'll eventually stop writing you novels lol

[personal profile] nataraja 2015-01-24 10:36 pm (UTC)(link)
Forensic Analyst, huh? Now he can see why Jack felt as if the higher ups were stepping on some toes. His team hasn't missed a thing yet and Katz is something else entirely. However he dismisses the thought that comes to mind that they think someone may be tampering with their evidence here. Homicide is what this division of the FBI specializes in. If there is a criminal to catch they're all on the clock but bulking up the team with people who may bear the same title or capacity of knowledge feels invasive. Almost as sign that Dexter is allowed to stay, Will reaches for one of the donuts. Chocolate sprinkles or anything with filling will do for him.

However the sarcasm gets an edge of a smile from the special agent. Odd, and awkward--almost misplaced on his tired mug but the smile was still there for a glimmer of a second. "Maybe you should be an actor." A cutting remark it would seem if Will had poised it that way, but more of a joke as he hasn't quite caught onto the other at all. They've barely met. Perhaps his mind is forming it's own foreboding thoughts.


That's the difference. Hannibal, he was more interested to watch Will dance and Dexter? He's flirting in a way, playing a game. A prowling panther batting away at a mouse he has caught by the tail but refuses to kill as that would end the panther's amusement. "Call me Will. I think we're a little passed the formalities." He takes a bite into the donut. "I did just ask you about murder. Not exactly ice-breaking material."

However his expression sombers at the mention of being compared to killers. He is used to such accusations. They've written papers about him and his ability to empathize. What did Jack call it? The evil minds something or other? Will just shakes his head. "I don't think like them. I understand them." He corrects. "What I do isn't about thinking, not really, it's about feeling. Murder is motivated no matter how clean the crime scene might be." His shoulders slacken a touch, getting a bit more comfortable. Maybe it was something in the other man's voice but for once he didn't feel like a specimen being examined under a microscope with that comment no matter how much he hates to be psychoanalyzed. Instead the word kinship came to mind.

"Yes. Tell me why you would choose these girls." Will crosses one arm over his chest. As he eats that donut and Dexter falls into another state entirely he wonders to himself if that's what he looks like when he drifts. Little does Will know he doesn't see because he can, he sees because his mind has already been poisoned by something he can't control.


"Where have they been hiding you?" He quips, actually quite impressed. That last part he hadn't quite gotten to yet, the part about love. Maybe that is the missing link they're looking for, but as they say the devil's in the details. Dexter has idle hands, and a well positioned person suit. The claws of something he couldn't place raked across his subconscious, a tantalizing gesture asking him play. Will shakes his head again, and his free hands comes up as if he's getting an on-coming headache. He huffs out a shaky sigh, one that might resemble that of someone getting a chill in the raw bite of a winter night.

Without a word he reaches into the pocket inside his jacket to take out a bottle of asprin, dry swallowing about two after he pops off the lid. "I get headaches." He explains, as if feeling the need to. No sense in anything thinking he has more problems than he already does. "I think I need some water."

He pushes himself up to go over to the water cooler in the corner and pour himself a cup. He prefers coffee, the searing warmth gliding down his throat but cold water will do. Could that have been a reaction to the demon that lies beneath or was it just a coincidence? Who's to say. Dexter will just have to stick around to find out.
Edited 2015-01-24 22:58 (UTC)
nataraja: (014)

sorry i thought i sent this already

[personal profile] nataraja 2015-01-29 04:58 pm (UTC)(link)
The problem really isn't getting on Will's good side, it's staying there. Friendships and relationships with anyone in general are volatile things for Will. The connotation under which those relations function change rapidly, almost day to day in some situations. Jack and him are acquaintances, friends soon (hopefully), but the truth of the matter is that Will is being used as a bloodhound. He serves a purpose just as Dexter will once he proves his worth to the rest of the team. Will may be friendly now but what will yield later on after they've solved this case? He never knows.

"Anyone can wear a mask, so to speak." He does chuckle at the reference. Very vivid imagery there. "Dripping with bad blood from an ill-conceived performance or cracked from someone touching a part of the humanity that's left underneath." He shrugs, not thinking much on that metaphor. Associations come easy to him.

Dexter is far too charming for his own good. It cuts through Wil's defensive in the same way Hannibal's prodding and analyzing does. Is this another person that will develop a professional curiosity in him, he wonders.

Either way that goes unaddressed as he downs the water, drowning the thoughts bubbling on the surface of his mind. They're starting to infest, fester where wounds were already made by being thrown back into a line of work he wasn't entirely prepared for in practice. Will glances back while filling his cup a second time. "Actually, I already do--" A door bursts open down the hallway and out bounds Jack Crawford.

"Let's go. We've got a body." Jack pauses. "Who's this?"

"New blood."

"Fine, as long as he has something to contribute other than standing around"

- -

The scene they find is a gruesome one. A feast of crows. Out in the middle of a field a girl's body is mounted on a set of antlers. The morning sun dressing her naked for in it's harsh glow. Birds has to be waved away from the body as they try to feast on the meal they have been presented. Will follows behind at the scene, taking in the surroundings.

"You've got the floor, Will."

"Get the new guy."


"Bring him over." Will waits, observing. It's different than the last killer and the intent, the reverence, is completely gone. This time he's speaking to Dexter whenever he wanders over to the scene. Who knows. He was from a previous division but he may not do so well with bodies. Better to break him now rather than later in Will's opinion. The murders they deal with are always a certain shade of revolting. "You saw with photos. How about a real body?"