mirrortouch | 01 | 🕐

[ It's not something that really ever becomes routine, it doesn't matter how often he wakes up someplace strange and uncharted. The voice on the line sounds about as scattered as he feels. ]

My name is Will Graham, it's- [ He's pulling back his sleeve to look for a watch that's not there. ] I don't have the time. I don't- I don't have the time.

[ Hang on, don't get too lost. ]

It's not clear to me exactly where I am, but- [ a dry laugh ] you probably already knew that. This isn't even my phone. But you probably knew that too.

[ He's missing details. He's missing plenty. His voice trails off for a short while before he can get his bearings enough to speak again, and even then it's almost unconsciously. ] I don't know. I don't know.

[ It's as if the fact that he has no idea sparks him back into the present. His voice grows more composed, if somewhat cracked. ] So if you're hearing this, if anyone is hearing this - [ is anyone hearing this? ] - any singular indication will be key.

[ Another beat. ]

I feel as though I've strayed a long, long way from home.

[ The air goes dead, and then so does the line. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You said yourself, 'complete' isn't exactly an identifier in your repertoire.

Your duality comes with reason, Mr. Dent. I imagine, in a forthright manner, [ though he's not apologizing, ] that yours was at least in large part born of whatever happened to your visage.

[ Duh. ]

That sort of thinking can certainly come out of the particularly traumatic, but I can't say there isn't generally some sort of - feeling of it before, a metaphorical seed to begin the growing process.

We have spent the last sixteen years in and out of institutionalized mental health care. We had a therapist from the time of our brother's death till my own... transformative experience.

We do not suggest you analyze us. It's a very sure way to evaporate any good will you might get from us. We are not your patient.

[ Boundary: Set. ]

If you want to ask questions, ask. We have little to hide.

[ It's a sentiment he can fully appreciate. He doesn't particularly like being psychoanalyzed either. Sometimes it just comes naturally. Observing is what he does - Hannibal's voice is in his head again, "I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off."

Which doesn't make it any less - well, rude.

Still, he has to ask: ]

How many people does it make it that you've killed now? That you've left up to your own form of justice?

I don't keep count. But it's definitely within double digits.

[ Harvey is not a spree killer or a violent psychopath. He is not indiscriminate. He has patterns, rules, and none of them involve killing without forethought. ]

You should keep count.

[ Maybe it's too late in the game for that now, but he feels it's important to at least implicate, to encourage. ]

It's a grim reminder, at the least, but losing track certainly loses one's sense of humanity in a case like that.

That implies we have much humanity left. Very generous of you.

[ It's not sarcastic. ]

You think of yourself as beyond the possibility of it? Beyond the possibility of a graduation?

Not at all. We have 'reformed' before. Stayed sane and balanced for years. But only for years. Eventually, eventually-- something goes wrong, and we swing back to what we were.

It's not that we can't reform. It's that it doesn't stick.

Which means you simply can't graduate. Look at you, so volatile and yet so relaxed now.

What happens when it doesn't stick here? What will you do?

We wait to die.

[ Which is a fairly good sum up of their holding pattern on the barge. ]

And is that all you're reduced to? An agent of fair and balanced justice until you inevitably perish?

It's not a bad retirement.

Better than I would have got at home - the barge is better then the asylum, in some ways.

Asylums don't have pool tables.

[ He'll give him that much. ]

Nor are the doors open; free range to roam. I can't question the point at which you've arrived in that sense.

It merely sounds like resignation.

Be here over a year. Resignation is something you'll get very familiar with.

Resignation and futility, walking hand in hand with a lie. [ He supposes that makes up the most of the ship.

He wonders, briefly, just how much resignation it is that may have found itself leaching into Hannibal Lecter. How much hope that leaves him holding out for. ]

I've been here nearly two months now, and there's already a distinct tinge of - foreboding in the air.

You'll get used to that, too. It's a thing that lingers, especially among the inmate population. Especially when things go to hell.

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