fandomtownies | April Fools' Dance, An Abandoned Warehouse, Friday Night

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April Fools' Dance, An Abandoned Warehouse, Friday Night

The first arrivals to the warehouse would have found nothing - until the lights went on, dropping many shades of glitter down onto the floor. The glitter would stick around all night, almost-but-not-quite clashing with the colorful decor, though it did not seem to incite any boykissy.

Even if one of the janitors definitely took a shot at using it as an excuse.

There was a karaoke booth set up in the corner, and the rest of the party environment looked chaotic and incredibly merry. Reds, blues, and yellows had been thrown together like a crazy man had attacked the place with some paint.

Welcome to your April Fools' Dance, children, adults, and alumni.

[[ ~~wait for the~~ ocd up, have at! Arrival | Food and Drink | Shadowy Corners | Karaoke | Dance Floor | Bathrooms | OOC ]]

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And Hannibal was more than happy to let her check. He knew people would need proof and he was willing to provide it. So, while she got on the phone, he stayed quiet with his hands in the air just to still seem like he wasn't going to do anything.

Yeah, and all the while she was on the phone, Angela wasn't taking her eyes off him. It was mostly listening anyway. Talking too much was only going to show the shake in her voice. The explanations went way over her head, but the answer was the same. It all matched.

With all that spinning around her head, Abigail was lucky she actually got a 'thank you' at the end of that conversation.

"If this is some big April fool's thing--" she half-threatened, particularly ineffectively considering the break in her voice. "You know I'll... well, get someone else to kill you." Again.

There was a vague, if morbid, sort of levity in there. Or she tried for it, anyway. Maybe it was a little soon.

"I wouldn't do that," he said lamely, shrugging. "I don't want anyone to kill me and I don't want to kill anyone. I'm just trying...I'm trying to come back from all that. To make it better."

Angela dipped a little nod. Now it was starting to sink in, and she was almost letting herself believe that it actually was what she was seeing, she took the smallest of steps closer.

"So, that message?" That one that she deleted... That was actually him.

"It was impulsive," Hannibal said, shrugging. "It was all I could think to do that meant I didn't have to talk to anyone. I wasn't ready for that."

Angela closed her eyes briefly, now she felt less like all those threats he'd thrown her way before would be followed through in that moment. It was a little difficult to keep thinking of things to say while she was still trying to straighten out and disassociate and place a million different feelings.

"I guess you are now." Standing here in the middle of a crowd. "Into the fire. So to speak."

"Are... you okay?" Or as okay as he could be, given everything.

"No," he said, shrugging a shoulder. "No, I'm not okay but I'm not really important in the grand scheme of things. I'm sure things will get better eventually but right now? No, I'm not okay. I'm dealing though."

"Not okay, I mean, of course not okay. Stupid question." If she wasn't okay, he definitely wouldn't be magically fine. It just filled the silence better than anything else she could think of.

"I'm just... You're--" she shook her head slightly, "alive." Not about to turn around and try to kill her. She was still working on her side of the dealing.

"Yeah, I know, it surprised me too," Hannibal said, shrugging. "I'm not expecting anything from you but it's...good that you know. Hopefully you don't have to be worried anymore. I'm just trying to let people know that they don't have to worry about me."

Angela nodded, biting the inside of her lip again and reached for the light chain around her neck, pulling the cross out over the neckline of her dress. "One piece of jewelry I'll be good with not feeling like I need," she said, hazarding another step forward.

"It's nice, though," Hannibal said, eyes falling to that chain. "Maybe you should keep wearing it. There's a lot of...bad stuff out there. I'm living proof of that. Both the fact that people suck and that anyone can be made to...be that bad."

Maybe she should. But she'd still prefer that it didn't have to be some ritual for her to check before she left her room. She fidgeted a moment longer with it before letting it drop.

"It wasn't you. None of it." That one Angela was certain of. "I know that."

"In a way, it was me, though," he said and looked a little helpless. "I was stupid enough to get into the situation. I...it was me. I did all that. I remember it all."

It was that look, really, that did it for her. That clinched any lingering doubts and tugged at the weight her chest.

"Oh.. oh honey, don't do that." That was the kind of guilt no one needed to put on themselves. "It wasn't you?" He might remember it, it might've walked like him, and talked like him...

It wasn't. Angela would never believe that.

"I appreciate that, I do, but it's not going to change my mind," he said sadly, shaking his head. "All those memories, I have them. And I can still feel...everything. It hurts. But this isn't about me."

"That's exactly why it is." Because he cared. That was the big difference there. They were not even close to the same. Maybe it wasn't just about him, but he was definitely the very biggest chunk of it.

There was only a brief moment indecision, where she half-moved, and hesitated before she went to wrap still shaky arms around his neck. If he'd let her, anyway.

He didn't move away but he didn't move to return it either. He got a little tense and a little shaky himself because he had all those memories and all that guilt.

"W-what're you doing?" he asked nervously.

"I am hugging you," she told him, a little muffled. "Because until five minutes ago, I thought you were dead, and that's what you do when someone you care about is... not dead." Even if it scared the hell out of you.

Hannibal still wasn't hugging back because it still made him so nervous to be close to people but he was trying not to be so wound up tight and tense even while he stood there with his hands at his sides.

For a few moments at least, he was getting hugged. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable, and it was fairly obvious he was... But he was warm, and felt and smelled exactly like he always had, and--

Okay, it was a great way to hide her teary, emotional responses. Middle of a party, you really weren't supposed to cry. He was okay, that was a good thing.

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April Fools' Dance, An Abandoned Warehouse, Friday Night

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