dreamerinsilico | Six Sentence Sunday

Not from the current in-progress chapter, because what I have of that has a significant chance of being deleted or re-written, but instead from a WIP that's probably getting finished & submitted for the next Bang (working title: "smut smut knives n' smut" :P):

“You don’t care for that, do you, Will?” Hannibal asks quietly, and Will realizes he’s been frowning stormily as his fingers idly trace the ridges of the scar between Hannibal’s shoulder blades.

The darker parts of his mind can appreciate the poetry of it: a brand meant for pigs, seared into the skin of a man who likes to eat humans he views as equivalent to pigs. Hannibal almost certainly appreciates that, too.

But it’s a mark of powerlessness, however brief, that does not belong on an apex predator.

It’s a mark of ownership, and this particular apex predator belongs to Will.

“I’d say I care quite a bit. I hate it.”