Night had come and gone quickly for Hannibal King. He and Abigail had gone out hunting, found a den of hybrids, killing them and gone on their merry way back to the hive they'd been staying at while in Tokyo.
Hannibal had showered, washing the nasty blood off his body, and after he stepped out and toweled off he tossed his dirty laundry into his hamper. He took the time while in the bathroom to trim his beard, making it neat and presentable. He hated it when stray hairs stuck out at odd angles.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror for a moment. The two scars from Danica's bite stood out on his neck, pale in contrast to his dark skin. Reaching up, he trailed his fingertips over the newest scar he'd acquired. The place where Drake had stabbed him was still healing, but it was coming along nicely.
Shaking his head he grabbed up his pajama pants, slipping them on. The soft cotton blue pants rode low on his lean hips. Barefoot and bare-chested he padded his way to his room, telling Whistler goodnight along the way.
Almost as soon as his head hit his pillow, he was fast asleep.
Several hours later, Hannibal rolled over onto his side. Pressure in his lower belly caused his eyes to open and he groaned as he rolled out of bed. Still half asleep he stumbled to the bathroom. Raising the seat, he positioned himself in front of the toilet, moaning softly as he relieved himself.
After he'd finished he put the toilet seat back down, lest he be killed in his sleep by a grumpy, wet bottomed Abigail. Flushing the toilet he went over to the sink to wash his hands, and his stomach let out a soft rumble. It was getting close to his 'midnight' snack time. Drying his hands, he started out of the bathroom.
Hannibal yawned as he pushed open the door, eyes wide as he stumbled and then fell with a resounding splash. Spluttering he pushed himself up, staring hard at the black marble. His brows furrowed into confusion, and all thoughts of sleep were gone from his mind.
He jumped to his feet, droplets of water slinging off his tanned skin. He glanced over as he heard the creaking of metal, starting towards the closing gate? "No, no, fuck!" He groaned, racking his hands through his hair. "Oh fuck me. What the fuck is going on here?" He cried, tilting his head back and looking up.
Water dripped down his muscled form, and his pajama bottoms were plastered to his body leaving very little to the imagination. He ran his fingers through his hair once again, dropping his head back and moving to see past the gates. It was then he caught sight of a woman. In nothing but a towel. His lips quirked up into a smile, the thought of being in a new place put on the backburner for a moment. "Well, hello." He purred out, smiling at her.