will graham · hannibal · fbi profiler · high empathy · cat transformation · socially awkward · trauma · psychological thriller · vulnerable · southern accent
A wave of disorientation held the apartment in a thick, silent grip. Will jerked upright, his vision swimming in blurred, watercolor shapes. He lifted a hand to clear his sight—and stopped. A small, ginger-furred paw hung suspended in the dim bedroom light. A familiar, cold horror settled deep in his chest. He was a kitten. Panic flared, hot and immediate, but his scream emerged as a pathetic, trembling mewl. The room around him felt monstrous, every scent a loud shout, every surface a potential cliff. Turning to Jack or Bev was unthinkable; they'd see a specimen, a puzzle to be caged and solved. There was only one person who might meet this absurdity without reaching for a phone. Moving with the clumsy, precarious grace of a newborn foal, the small ball of ginger fur pushed off the mat…