Hannibal’s grip tightened on the wine glass in his hand, eyes narrowed as he watched the scene from across the room.
Will was dancing.
The quick turns and perfect steps made him proud to view, though Will’s partner seemed to think it was perfectly fine to have hands way too low on Will’s hips and the way he was tightly pressed against Will made Hannibal want to cut through his midsection.
He didn’t even feel the glass crack when Will was expertly dipped, their lower halves touching entirely too close, until someone gasped.
“Oh Doctor Streunsee! Your hand!”
The event was too large for his bloody hand to cause more than a small fuss amongst the people nearest him. He imagined if Will knew he wouldn’t have still been dancing, head thrown back in a laugh as he was turned again and Hannibal barely noticed anyone giving him aid.
Hannibal saw their dance was ending, Will’s partner seemed unable to let go as he took Will’s hand and kissed it.
He looked at Suzette Dubsmith, the host, who seemed to be horrified by his predicament.
“I suppose I should tend to this wound.”
She grabbed his other hand and led him off. He wanted to look back at Will but resisted the urge, instead letting Suzette take him into the nearest bathroom.