Title:
Outwitted
Prompt:
044. 'Circle'
Word Count:
300
He drew a circle that shut me out--
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in.
-- Edwin Markham, "Outwitted"
The guy's everything they said, all right. Surly. Mean. Glaring through the bars of the cell with a malevolent scowl like King Kong immediately pre-Empire State Building.
And big. Not tall – shorter than Hannibal by a good couple inches – but solid. Nothing but muscle and scowl and a bad attitude that's enough to melt the paint right off the bars of his cell.
He growls when Hannibal saunters in. "Whatcha want, Whitey?"
"Technically," Hannibal says, seemingly oblivious to the death glare, "That'sColonel Whitey." He strikes a match on the No Smoking sign, lights his cigar. "They tell me you've got a mean right hook."
Scowl.
Hannibal continues cheerfully, "They also tell me you threw a superior officer through a plate-glass window."
A self-satisfied grin – so brief it almost didn't happen – but a grin, nonetheless.
"And," Hannibal leans up against the bars, "They tell me you know electronics."
The scowl is back, but it's lightened considerably; and it's easy, if you know what to look for, to see that under all that bad attitude he's a nineteen-year-old kid sitting in a cell a million miles from home. He juts his chin at Hannibal. "So?"
"So." Hannibal gestures broadly with the cigar, looking the big man right in the eyes. "So my question to you is – do you wanna sit here and wait until you get court-martialled;" He grins, extends his hand. "Or do you wanna get out and help me wreak some havoc?"
There's a long, thinking pause. Then the big man puts his broad, solid hand in Hannibal's.
B.A. Baracus grins. "When d'we start?"