Hannibal and Will placed their bags just inside the door of Hannibal's new temporary flat.

"Well, it seems Jack at least let me have a decent kitchen," Hannibal said as he did a walkthrough.

"At least he let you get a place. I'm dreading going to the dorms." Will checked his watch. "Move-in isn't for another hour and a half yet, though." He plopped down on the couch just inside the door.

"Well, we both know you'd fill the role of a student better than I would. I'm sure Jack was just looking out for our interests."

"Yeah, when has that ever happened before?"
Hannibal shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on the back of the couch next to Will. "At least you don't have to go back to teaching. The last time I was in front of a class was, ooooh, I honestly can't remember." He sat down next to him, "So what's the profile we're looking for again?"

"Jack suspects that the recent downtown killings are done by one of the students here. Most likely a military returnee, but that's just a hunch."

"Probably male, knowing the usual tendencies?"

"Yup." Will stood and grabbed one of his smaller bags from the pile, "Mind if I borrow your shower for a bit? Train rides never leave me feeling rather clean."

"Go right ahead."

As Will was showering, Hannibal began unpacking. He checked the fridge to see it empty.

"Guess I need to go shopping…."

As the cab pulled up to the curb all Will could do was stare. He even double checked the address to be sure. And it was right.

Jack had put him in a frat house.

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath. He paid the cabbie and carried his bags to the door.

The inside was much cleaner than he expected, but it would certainly be destroyed in a few days.

Will jumped a little at the big paw of a hand clasping onto his shoulder, "You look a little old to be here, too." He turned to see a grizzled square jaw just above eye height. He looked up.

"I guess we're in this together."

"The name's Stevens. Well, Mac. Sorry, just EAS'd from the Corps, not used to the first name thing yet." He stuck out his hand.

Will shook it, "I'm Will, Will Graham."

They chatted and walked around the house for a bit. They found a room with only two rooms in the corner of the house on the first floor. On the far wall were the beds with a record player sitting between them. There were two battered desks opposite them. Old band and college posters plastered the walls.

"Well," Will exhaled, "guess it could be worse."

"Don't worry, Will. If they wanna do any of that stupid frat shit, I got you." Mac threw his bags on the bed on the right and began unpacking.

My luck can't be that good, Will thought. Besides, he said he just got out. The killings started last year, he can't be the target. Well, maybe. Don't make quick conclusions, Will.

As Mac stripped down to his jeans and wife beater, Will noticed he still had the distinctive hand and neck tan that comes from wearing sleeves rolled down in the field. Possibly a Middle East deployment.

Nah. He's not the guy.

Will was about to lay down when he figured he should probably wash the sheets first.