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Alana is walking with a quick, sure-footed pace to her office when she hears the ringing in her briefcase. The Caller ID slows her steps to casual as she answers. “Hannibal,” she smiles. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Dr. Bloom. How is imparting knowledge on impressionable minds treating you?”
The suave voice makes her feel young again—smitten and as if she’s on her way to class, alongside her students. “Well, as always. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You owe it to your Jack Crawford. He has asked for a profile on one of the academy’s own.”
Alana makes a face, and her stride falters. Jack was... quick. “Not a suspect, I hope?” she asks rather than sighing.
Hannibal’s laugh is small and airy. “No, nothing like that. He would like my analysis of the enigma that is Will Graham. I hear you were the one to refer me for the task.”
She stops just past the entrance then. “I was," she admits, giving up pretense of ignorance. A pause, then, "You want my own analysis beforehand,” she teases.
“If it wouldn’t be considered cheating.”
She smiles again and resumes navigating the lecture halls. “Cheating isn’t the only form of unethical behavior I take a stand against.”
“Certainly,” he teases back.
She suspects both of them are wearing an identical, knowing amusement on their face. “You give me too much credit,” she says, bringing them back to subject. “And maybe not enough,” she adds. But Hannibal knows her well enough, knows she wouldn’t betray a colleague's trust.
“Never such a thing as giving you too much credit, Alana. And I would not dream of giving you an insufficient amount.”
“I haven’t cracked the enigma because I choose not to,” she concedes. Both of them know it’s within her capabilities. “But I won’t discuss what I do know.” She does a quick sweep of her surroundings for attentive ears. “Jack is trying to drag Will into the field, and I do not want to be a part of it. I already am, I know." She does sigh then. "I referred you because I wanted to respect Will's privacy, but I was also hoping you would see things my way.”
“Mm. A man like Agent Crawford, he made certain you were a part of it.”
The sympathy in his voice assuages her guilt, and tension leaves her shoulders.
“If not anything solid on your friend," he continues, "then I was hoping you could tell me how best to approach him, at least. And, Alana?"
An eyebrow quirk, a faint pout of lips. She recognizes the tone in that question. She thinks of the sexual flings at Johns Hopkins that must have begun with that tone.
"I'm not saying my willingness to see things your way is contingent on your cooperation, but I would be in your debt...”
She rolls her eyes, blushes. Alana will not think of his sexual flings. Instead she considers what she knows about both men. They are polar opposites in the way they dress and carry themselves but both brilliant and intriguing. Hannibal is flashy, confident, charming, polished. Will is… Will likes earth tones and invisibility. He will absolutely hate Hannibal Lecter.
“Bring coffee,” she muses, “you can be a little much.”
Hannibal’s answer is an unrestrained laugh.
The rarity of the sound prolongs her hesitation. “Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“If—when Will goes into the field, keep an eye on him for me. Jack’s made his promises, but he’s only human.”
“I’m in the same boat, I’m afraid,” he quips. Alana imagines he’s looking thoughtful in the brief pause that follows, giving real consideration to that which he’s agreeing. “But I, too, will make my promises.”
“Good.” She almost says she will leave him to his patients but remembers Hannibal initiated the call. “Dinner soon?”
“Of course. I have gone far too long without my sous chef.”
“Friday night, then. After my evening class.”
“I look forward to it.”
- - - - -
As Alana leaves the teacher offices behind, she catches sight of the man of the hour among blue and khaki uniforms. He is walking down the long hallway intent on looking at the double doors that end it. “Good morning, Will,” she greets.
Will’s concentration breaks after a beat. His head flicks to the side and quickly flicks back before he does a double-take at realizing the sight he caught was of Alana. “Hello, how’s your day,” he answers without stopping. A small but genuine smile flashes on his face, and he resolutely turns his attention back to the doors with free hand tapping along his outer thigh.
“Good,” she calls after him. Her own smile goes unnoticed.
She hopes three people looking out for him will be enough.
Then, too late, recognizes Cialdini’s rejection-then-retreat method in Hannibal’s call: ask a big favor that will be rejected, then ask for the intended, smaller favor. Yet again, she smiles.