Abigail's mother hadn't been a bad cook. She had done her best with what she was given, what they could afford. And that had been enough for her daughter. But in light of Hannibal's skill, well... There was simply no comparison. The doctor saw to every detail with precision, every ingredient and recipe, before organizing it all like art laid out on their table. The first time Abigail had been witness to it, she hesitated before eating, reluctant to damage his work. But it smelled so good... How could she resist?
Now sitting with him and chatting on about daily life, it really began to set in for her that this was her family now. It felt... Good.
Though a thought struck her, had her pause after the entree to ask, "If I tell you something weird... Will you promise not to make me one of your patients or something?" The last thing she wanted was to go back to therapy.
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Apologies for my absence/erratic activity. I had a back surgery recently after months of struggle with my health. I'm still healing, but I wanna be more active, if that's okay.
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