Part XIV: A Night at the Opera
Fandom: NBC Hannibal/Fear Clinic (webseries)
For @tranimation. She knows why.
Bedelia was proud of herself. She had willingly left the house tonight. The opera was in town and some culture would do her some good. Villatoro was at her side, as usual. Barney had suggested her dress for the evening, a dark red backless little number that had been hiding in the back of her closet. Villatoro appeared to forget how to breathe upon seeing her in it.
“You are going to…get us kicked out…” she whispered breathlessly.
Thank God for balcony seating. To any observer, it would merely look as though she were sitting on his lap instead of engaging in public indecency.
“Me? We’ll be fine as long as…you save the screaming for that harpy on stage,” Villatoro growled in her ear, chuckling as she slapped his hand away from trying to slide his hand down the top of her gown.
The risk was too much and she, reluctantly, returned to her seat. Villatoro, pleased with himself, fastened his belt and took a swig from the flask he’d hidden in the inner pocket of his coat.
“You are horrible,” she whispered as he got up from his seat. “Where are you going?”
“Men’s room. I need to stretch my legs anyway,” he replied, wrapping his coat around her shoulders.
Bedeila shook her head, turning her attention back to the preformance. She adjusted the coat around her shoulders, feeling heavy in one of the pockets. Looking back to make sure Villatoro wasn’t hiding in the shadows, she dipped her hand in, pulling out a small box. Curious, she opened it.
A ring. It was simple, very…him. a thin silver band with a tiny diamond in the center. She put it on, smiling when it fit. Villatoro had been rather nervous, even jumpy lately and now she knew why. She slipped the now empty box back into the coat and pretended to be enraptured by the opera when Villatoro returned.
“I miss anything important?” he asked.
“Nothing integral to understanding the story. Feeling better?”
“I’m ripping that dress off with my teeth the instant we get to the car.”
“I’m sure you will, darling,”
It felt like an eternity for the show to end. More than anything, Bedeila wondered how long it would take Villatoro to notice she was wearing the ring. They wove through the crowd of patrons, Villatoro stopping at the sight of Frederick Chilton, arm in arm with Freddie Lounds.
“Villatoro? My God, you look almost human,” Chilton said. Villatoro stood to his full height, towering over Chilton, Lounds and Bedelia herself. “What did you think of the preformance?”
Bedelia squeezed Villatoro’s hand in a silent warning to not start anything. The giant merely shrugged.
“Eh, tenor was off, the guy playing the flute in the orchestra was terrible and the main female singer sounded like a dying cat. Oreo?” he asked, pulling a packet of cookies out of his pocket. Bedeila dragged him away as Chilton stared in confusion and Lounds doubled over laughing.
“You made all that up, didn’t you?” Du Maurier asked.
“Babe, it’s me.”
Bedelia wasn’t even surprised that the answer actually made sense.