Difficult -- difficult to stand and watch Hannibal do the things Erik wanted to do. Comfort the girl in front of them. Touch her. Tell her everything was all right. Slowly, slowly, without his consent, he leaned against the doorframe and filled his sight with her. It was a greedy thing, this action, as if he could draw her like a veil over the whole of his senses, feast on her presence, dine on the sweet vision of her. He knew the way she tasted. He knew the way she smelled. He could almost feel her silky skin under his hands. Ah, he wanted to close his arms around her now. Wanted to tell her -- there was so much to tell her.
"Mm," Erik said instead, as Hannibal gestured toward him -- toward the door. The sound had meant to be a smooth, rather dubious utterance. It sounded instead like pain. He focused on his breathing, which had turned rough as his concentration broke at the sight of Christine. He corrected it again, forcing normal breaths again at least until Christine was no longer there to notice. With a smile he hoped was reassuring, he stepped backward into his office again, turning on the doorframe and letting it hold his weight. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hannibal move into the office right after him, and he leaned to the right to get out of the way of the door.
When the latch closed, Erik let down his guard. His body insisted that he sit, and so he did, slowly, against the wall.
"You played well tonight," Erik said hoarsely. It was the most important thing he had to say to Hannibal. And only second more important was the next: "I think we shouldn't wait until tomorrow."