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Tate Langdon ([personal profile] go_away) wrote in [community profile] herbgarden2016-07-03 07:50 pm

Open Post: Tate Langdon



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itrhymes: (pic#7610235)

[personal profile] itrhymes 2016-07-06 03:24 pm (UTC)(link)
For such a tall boy, Tate shrinks down into himself like an expert. Hannibal watches Tate's eyes on the floor. He takes slow, measured steps towards him. As suggested, there's plenty of books to avoid as he goes.

"It's quite alright." Hannibal is within arm's reach of Tate again, standing in the middle of his painstakingly-organized living room. The only remainders of the argument are the ten or so reference books that litter the floor.

Hannibal's head ticks gently to one side. The weight of the moment lingers. He lets it pull his arm up, forward, lets it press his hand down onto Tate's shoulder with exacting care.

The pocket square is being offered to Tate with his other hand. "I am much more interested in whether or not you are alright, Tate. That was not a kind discussion I interrupted, regardless of how it ended." Hannibal's stare is relentlessly steady.
itrhymes: (pic#7610235)

[personal profile] itrhymes 2016-07-07 01:16 am (UTC)(link)
In troubling times, Hannibal's affected eccentricities can often offer a nice way of breaking the ice that can freeze over conversations. There is humor in the absurd, a space to be squeezed between points when you bring in a non sequitur.

In less pretentious language: Hannibal is completely alright with Tate laughing at his pocket square, because it's the mood changer he'd been trying for. Hannibal's eyes on him remain heavy, though, even if they're without any malice. "Some of us still try to look presentable when going about our days." Murmured while Tate collects himself, wipes down his own face.

Hannibal imagines what it would have felt like to do that for him - to physically mask him again, help him place himself back together into a socially-acceptable facade.

Not yet.

"I will always hope you are being honest with me, Tate." Hannibal accepts the pocket square. He puts forth quite a lot of effort into not looking disappointed with the folding job. He does not place it back into his jacket pocket to stain said jacket.

The hand on Tate's shoulder, so still it might have been forgotten, makes itself known by pressing down and squeezing, more of an intent than a movement. And then it pulls away, like a bird needing to dig in against its surface before taking off. "Although I will not often pester you for those truths. If I ask a question, I will leave it up to you about answering honestly the first time." Even if I suspect you're lying, Tate, his tone seems to imply. He doesn't look annoyed at the expectation - the knowledge - that Tate has not always been forthcoming, however.

"Trust can only be gained on both party's terms. I would not insist on forcing you." Hannibal watches him seriously. His gaze looks down, suggesting apology. "Although I will point out that knowing that you withhold important parts of yourself from both of us may effect our relationship over time."
itrhymes: (pic#8139026)

[personal profile] itrhymes 2016-07-08 12:00 am (UTC)(link)
Hannibal only makes uncomfortable things easier for others when he absolutely has to, to earn their trust or to avoid losing it completely. But in this case, Hannibal thinks that some degree of discomfort is what's needed. To incite Tate into coming outside of the shell he's constructed for himself, he's going to need true incentive. Sometimes a stick works better than a carrot.

Tate absolutely needs both, of course. So Hannibal doesn't verbally reassure him at first, doesn't say that he understands why Tate was withholding information from him. But Hannibal does nod, face understanding and smoothed away from accusation.

And then Tate meets his eyes again, and his message culminates. Hannibal feels the dwindling tension in the room flare briefly, embers showering sparks in their wake. "I would not give up on my patient if I thought they were still capable of positive growth. And I've been given no reason to not believe that of you, Tate." Hannibal is still within arms reach of him, but the window for physically reassuring has passed. His presence is still heavy, directed at Tate in an unmistakeable way. "You should not ignore the effect that motivation can have on success. Talent will not get you far without the application of those skills."

A smile crosses his face, the moon clearing of clouds. "I've heard you often say you would like to get better. If you put in true effort towards it, I think your desire will let you succeed. After all." His eyes never leave Tate's. "You are not alone in this journey."
itrhymes: (pic#7884750)

[personal profile] itrhymes 2016-07-08 01:31 pm (UTC)(link)
"You keep speaking of good and bad, as if these concepts are concrete and universal. Morals are a human invention." Hannibal watches this boy, so wrapped up in black and whites that he can't see anything else. Constricted by others and himself, limited from what he could be.

Hannibal can see the ropes binding him, and he wants to cut them free. A beast unleashing another beast. "I am not intimidated at the prospect of finding out where your own created morals will lead you. I look forward to it." And his tone feels heavy with hope and with finality. Hannibal nods kindly, but his pressure of presence lightens. He becomes a solid background noise instead of trying to absorb every particle of Tate's attention.

You're free to go and lick your wounds alone if you'd like, Tate. Hannibal is satiated for now.
Edited 2016-07-08 13:34 (UTC)
itrhymes: (pic#8139026)

[personal profile] itrhymes 2016-07-10 12:00 am (UTC)(link)
Hannibal might say that being a psychiatrist - being his kind of psychiatrist - is more akin to being a gardener than an inventor. With his patients and his friends, he doesn't seek to create a robot from nothing. Rather, he uses seed and soil that already exists, placing everything just so. He can hover over it afterwards if he wishes - and he only occasionally does - but in the end, he cannot control what grows from what he has planted. Whatever Tate allows Hannibal to sow is what he will get - he cannot alter it except in whispers and tugs towards the sunlight or the darkness.

Tate seems to be pulling himself back together, piece by piece. Hannibal has already unmoored the attachment he'd clasped between the two of them, and now he smiles, taking one step backwards. It's a clear invitation that they're finished. "I think so. Unless you truly need more time spent sitting in a room arguing. I may not be so calm if you progress to throwing books at myself, however." His voice still has its usual restrained liveliness - a monotone that still manages to clearly convey emotions. But his eyes have deeper wrinkles at the edges, and it's clear he's smiling at Tate as Hannibal turns to leave.

"Oh, and Tate." Hannibal pauses at the very doorway back into his office, body facing the opposite direction. His head turns owlishly to watch the boy. His tone and demeanor both immediately soften and slow. His smile is gone, but it doesn't make way for a frown. "Regardless of how heated an argument may become, I would never strike you." Said calmly, as though he were informing Tate of any other innocuous household rule.
itrhymes: (hmm)

[personal profile] itrhymes 2016-07-10 06:18 pm (UTC)(link)
There really was only ever the chance for a negative response, wasn't there? Hannibal waits it out patiently, face as impenetrable as ever. It bends only when Tate verbally responds, flush creeping up his neck and against his cheeks. Tate's embarrassment spills over, guilty and bold as blood, and Hannibal's face thaws into something impassively kind. He doesn't fawn with sympathy, he doesn't reassure. He doesn't panic in the face of Tate's discomfort, because his words didn't backfire. They're doing whatever it is they were meant to do, and Hannibal is happy to watch that effect.

If nothing else, perhaps Tate can sense how Hannibal is unruffled and unembarrassed at his own overreaction, and can take comfort it in later. For now, Hannibal is letting him go easily. "Some things are best when they are heard, regardless of how much we tell ourselves we already know them. Like nourishment for the spirit. You can't eat once and expect you won't need it ever again." Hannibal's eyes linger on Tate, as long as they can as he turns away to open his office door.

Now inside the office, Hannibal pins him once again with a stare. "I realize we are skipping our session for the day, but if you need anything, please simply knock." Hannibal keeps fingers wrapped on the handle, ready to close both the door and this conversation.