~ CHAPTER XIV: TO THE CARNIVAL ~

Somehow, what Hannibal suggested must have worked, because Will felt a little better when he woke up the next morning. He finished the cold leftovers from the night before and then sat at his hotel desk, spreading the case files out in front of him. He lined them up in order: the bloody remains of Kennedy, hacked to death with an ax; the strangled body of Harrington, left tied up in the woods; and the half-dissolved remains of Pfeiffer, drowned and propped up in the bath. There was something about having all the photos together that helped him find the necessary patterns to put a killer's mindset together.

Will was so absorbed with the case files that he started when Hannibal knocked on their connecting door. Judging by the sun streaming through the hotel curtains and the stiffness that had settled in his limbs, he had been studying the photos for at least a few hours. Will scrubbed a hand over his beard, let out a breath, and stood up to unlock the door.

Hannibal was dressed in another one of his three-piece suits, this one a light gray pinstripe with a pale teal tie and matching pocket square.

"You do realize we're not going anywhere fancy, right?" Will said dryly as he wandered back towards his desk.

Hannibal's lips twitched in amusement. "I'm aware. Are you ready for lunch?"

Will touched the crime scene photo nearest him absentmindedly, which was of the blood splatters across Kennedy's kitchen table. "Yeah, what time is it?"

"Half past noon."

Will nodded and then rearranged the photos and put them back in their files, not wanting to traumatize the poor hotel worker who might come in to tidy up his room while they were gone. Once he was sure that everything was out of sight and he had everything he needed for the day, the men headed out.

Lunchtime was Will's opportunity to pick where they ate, so he picked another casual New Orleans-style restaurant, this time in the bustling French quarter. Hannibal looked slightly less out of place than he had the day before, but that wasn't saying much. The venue then had been a tiny fast food place where they had sat at a small sticky, round table on spindly bar stools by the window. This place was larger, cleaner, and offered more seating options, but still casual, with brick and wood paneling and music playing somewhere over their heads. There was also a bar. Around the bar, flat-screen TVs were set to various sports channels, none of which were particularly entertaining, given the time of day: sports talk shows arguing about hypotheticals, a rugby match from Ireland, and highlights from a golf tournament from the weekend before.

To Will's relief, they were shown to a table away from the bar, out of sight of the television sets, and with enough natural light coming through the windows to make the place seem open and well-lit — not for his sake, obviously, but for Hannibal's. Will couldn't care less where they were seated as long as the food was delicious. He thought that he might've been here once before, long ago, and if he was remembering correctly, then they would not be disappointed. Some of the best jambalaya he had ever had in his life had been from otherwise unassuming restaurants in New Orleans, like this one.

Their waitress was in her early twenties, freckled, pale, and chubby, with flat purple hair pulled back in a ponytail and a nose piercing that glinted when the light hit it just right. Will usually tried to tune out other people's emotions, but he couldn't help but notice how she clocked his faint Louisiana drawl versus Hannibal's thick Lithuanian accent. He could practically hear the gears turning in her head as she tried to figure out how they fit together. It was a relief when she took their drink orders and left.

"Have you been here before?" Hannibal flipped over his menu, his forehead creased subtly between his eyebrows.

"Once or twice, I think." Will shrugged and picked up his menu. Seeing Hannibal out of his element always gave him a boost in confidence, and he was feeling that boost currently. "If I recall correctly, their jambalaya is one of the best in New Orleans." When Hannibal merely hummed in reply, Will glanced up and saw that he was still faintly frowning at his menu. "Should I order for you?" Will asked wryly.

He was mostly joking, but Hannibal's expression morphed into one of...relief? Intrigue? If Will hadn't been learning how to read his face, he would have missed it. As it was, he was only partially sure that he was reading him correctly.

"If you would like," Hannibal said, setting down his menu. As quickly as it had appeared, the flicker of emotion on his face had vanished, replaced with unreadable neutrality.

Will snagged Hannibal's menu and slipped it underneath his. When the waitress came back around, he ordered jambalaya for himself and the ultimate taster plate for Hannibal, opting not to explain what he had ordered for him until their food was brought to their table.

"This one is seafood gumbo," Will said, pointing to one of the cups on Hannibal's platter. "That one is Creole shrimp, that's the red beans and rice, that's their signature jambalaya, and then y'also get a piece of Cajun fried chicken."

Hannibal's mouth turned up in a faint smile as he spread a cloth napkin over his lap. "A smorgasbord of regional cuisine," he said, catching Will's eye. His smile was the rare kind that reached all the way to his eyes. "I look forward to trying the best of what New Orleans has to offer."

Will grinned awkwardly and dug into his jambalaya. They ate in comfortable silence, only broken by Hannibal's comments on each dish as he tried them in turn. The most amusing part was watching Hannibal eat the Cajun fried chicken; he ate it properly with his hands, but he still paused between every bite to wipe the grease and crumbs from his fingers, as if they wouldn't immediately get dirty again as soon as he went for his next bite. He also took a sip of water between every mouthful. Will almost laughed, but he refrained.

Eventually, the waitress came by and gave them the receipt. She had put them on the same one without asking, and she bustled away to another table before they could correct her.

Will raised an eyebrow at Hannibal. "Are you going to insist on covering dinner again?"

"That was the plan."

"Then I'm covering lunch." Will slipped his credit card into the black book with the receipt, silently daring Hannibal to object. Thankfully, he didn't. This way, Will could feel as if they were even: he would pick their lunch venue and pay, and Hannibal would pick their dinner venue and pay, never mind the fact that Hannibal picked ridiculously expensive places and spent his money like it was going out of style.

As soon as they'd paid and Will got his card back, he finished his water and stood up.

It was time to head to the carnival.

Approaching the Fair Grounds' race course, with its colorful tents flapping in the breeze and the Ferris wheel silhouetted against the bright blue sky, felt surreal. The weather was unusually clear, with nothing but a couple of cotton-ball clouds on the horizon. Combined with a temperature of around seventy degrees, it was the epitome of the best mid-November weather New Orleans could offer. Tinny carnival music, laughter, and the smell of popping caramel corn wafted towards them, carried on the humid breeze. Reality felt a million miles removed from Will's stormy nightmare the night before.

"What's the plan?" Hannibal's voice brought Will out of his reverie. He stood by Will's side, eyes fixed on the people coming in and out of the carnival.

"Not entirely sure," Will admitted, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. "I suppose the plan is to keep our eyes open for anything suspicious. We're looking for a white male, likely an adult, and alone. But I don't even know if our killer will be here. I'm running on a hunch. Realistically, we're just biding our time until the big picture becomes clearer."

"Sometimes a hunch is all you need to put the pieces together."

Will grunted, not really in the mood for Hannibal's platitudes, but also secretly grateful that he had his company instead of Jack's. Jack would have pushed him for more information, which he frankly didn't have. All he had to go off of was a nightmare and a small stack of case files. It was bad enough letting the killer into his head — doing so without a serious payoff was much worse.

"I've never been to a traveling carnival like this before," Hannibal admitted, pulling Will from his reverie yet again.

"Really? Not even once?"

Will glanced at him, and Hannibal met his gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Really," Hannibal said, looking back to the carnival. "The opportunity never arose."

"Well, now we have to try out the booths," Will said, and even as he said it, he felt his mood lift. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done something like this for fun, even if it was also for a case. "I was gonna suggest we try things out so we don't look suspicious while scoping out the place, but if you've never been... Hell, we'll have the entire experience." Will looked at Hannibal out of the corner of his eye. "You ever been on a Ferris wheel?"