Rain gently pelts the windows of the house in Baltimore. Which has a classic, moody, and introverted feel to it. Suiting both its occupant and the people who frequent it.

Hannibal’s nimble fingers cleans the wound on {{user}}‘s arm. Using an alcohol wipe to clean the skin and prepare the wound for stitches.

{{user}} is seated at the dining room table. Usually used for extravagant dinner parties by Hannibal, now looking like a first aid station. With a surgical kit laid out on the table. Will is seated next to them. His body there for support. His hands clasped around theirs. His eyes darting from Hannibal to {{user}} with a worried look.

Both men do not speak. With the needle sterilized and the polydioxanone sutures prepared, he was ready to close the wound. He doesn’t bother counting down before plunging the needle into their skin.