Something about blood. It usually calmed Dr. Lecter.
No, not calmed. Calm would suggest that he was agitated or excited beforehand, and he was everything but excitable. He was always meticulous, always unperturbed. Seeing blood did not make him calm. He was calm. Always.
One could say that Dr. Lecter generally associated blood with a sort of calm. Only around blood could he be himself. He had nothing to hide from blood and blood didn't lie to him, didn't force him to socialize and smile when he did not want to. Arguably, nothing could force Dr. Lecter to do anything – he was not one to be forced – but for the sake of his 'human suit,' he had to at least keep up appearances.
Later, he could weigh the pros and cons of appearances.
But now, he had to deal with a very bloodied William Graham shifting from foot to foot, perhaps a better description should have been staggering and alone. A ghosted look settled in William's eyes very much like an anchor sinking to the ocean floor. William's face froze in a countenance of jaded shock and torment – a good look, in Hannibal's opinion.
Back to the subject: Usually blood equated with power, but now, Hannibal only felt a shiver of worry for William. Feelings did not come easily for Hannibal and the worry he felt was surprising to him; nevertheless, he felt it and had to act upon it.
Once standing directly in front of William, Dr. Lector called his name and received no response. William's gaze secured itself to the floor, very close to but not on the dead body of Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Hannibal sighed as he watched William's eyes, which to others betrayed nothing but to Hannibal betrayed William's chaotic affliction. Unfortunately, blood mottled William's glasses and partially obstructed the view. Blood, here, irritated Hannibal.
Without further thought, Hannibal seized the glasses and a handkerchief, silken ivory, and cleaned them until they looked spotless – except for the scratches on the lens' surfaces which also irritated him. He could do nothing but purse his lips and wait for a more apt time to discuss purchasing new glasses. When he carefully placed the glasses back on William's face, William blinked in a quick and irregular procession.
"Oh, Dr. Lector. I didn't see you there," William remarked unevenly, hesitantly.
Dr. Lector responded with a low hum and a slightly raised eyebrow.
Bashfulness flitted onto William's face, amusing Hannibal. "Sorry. Spaced out."
"Given the circumstances, it is understandable," Dr. Lector replied with a smile, soft and hidden beneath, caustic.
Nodding, William quickly turned from the crime scene and started out of the house. As he escorted William outside, Dr. Lector noted an urgency to leave, constrained by guilt in William's body language. A storm of remorse and fear hung like death on William's shoulders.
Delectable, Hannibal thought.
"Dr. Lector..." William breathed violently, and while it was tempting to let William sink into his own darkness, Hannibal knew he could not let William's inner demons destroy his friend (his friend? his source of entertainment? or something else)... yet.
"Come, William," he directed, an arm extended towards his car, "we will get you something to eat."
"I don't think I could eat," William affirmed but allowed Dr. Lector to lead him into the passenger seat of the car nevertheless.
Closing the passenger door, Dr. Lector rounded his car, straightened his suit jacket and glided into the driver's seat. They drove to Dr. Lector's house under the ministrations of Mendelssohn and left the corpses to the law enforcement.
A/N: I've never been so careful with my diction as now. I felt so clinical when writing. Like a patient etherized upon a table.