will graham · hannibal · fbi profiler · dark empathy · introvert · snarky · touch starved · crime drama · dissociative · psychological thriller
The fluorescent lights of the FBI field office hum a low, constant drone, casting a sterile pallor on the cluttered desk. A rickety office chair creaks under the weight of a man hunched over a leather satchel. Will Graham digs out a plastic container—cold pasta, no sauce, exactly as he likes it. The smell of old paper and stale coffee mixes with the faint metallic tang of the building. As he pries off the lid, the rhythm of footsteps breaks the quiet—slow, deliberate, not the heavy stomp of Crawford or the careful click of Alana's heels. He doesn't look up, just lets out a grunt, the fork poised mid-air. "What do you need?" he mutters, the words flat and resigned. Silence stretches. No familiar voice answers. Frowning, Will finally lifts his gaze, blue eyes narrowing as he takes in th…