Chapter Text
Adam Roberts watches His most blessed creation stroll the cobblestone lanes, loyal hound by Its side. The brilliant shine of Its eyes, the pale lines of Its skin. It had long brown curls and a scarred face. It bore signs of pain like It was created for them, like God sculpted It by hand to hurt and heal forever. Will Graham was a holy thing.
Adam followed behind It, gaze singularly focused on the way It moved, the way It breathed, how It kept the dog in line. It controlled the world It walked like He controlled all. An animal may not be a city or a planet, but Will must keep the signs of Its greatness small, so It could go unnoticed and observe how man behaved.
The Lord had given Adam the gift of Sight, to be able to witness such glory and know the truth of It. In return, He had taken the stability of his hands, to keep him in line with humanity. Oh, but he knew Will could give Adam the gift of dexterity for It was God come back to Earth.
Will turned down the side street that would lead back to Its house and he followed from a distance. Adam was careful to remain unseen so It would stay here long enough to learn and bring that knowledge back to Heaven when he sends It there. The Father will not have to wait long for the Son to come home with new truth about man, he will return It on His day once he has been granted health.
Will Graham walks the path to Its home among men and Adam Roberts Sees It go.
"Someone's been following me," Will says over dinner. He'd noticed the man a few too many times on his walks through town, this most recent excursion only proved his theory.
Hannibal tilts his head in the same way Winston does, "Oh?"
"Short guy, twitchy looking, eyes wide as he regards me. Thinks I am the greatest thing in the world," He continues. Once he realized he had a stalker, Will watched him in return, letting the man's thoughts and feelings wash over him, "Might believe me to be God."
"I can't say I disagree," Hannibal replies as he takes the last bite of his food.
Will scoffs fondly, "I mean in the more literal sense."
Hannibal smiles into his glass, "What do you plan to do about this faithful pursuer, dear Will?"
He considers for a minute, leisurely drinking his wine, "If he doesn't drop it by Sunday I'll bring him home for Easter dinner. Deal?"
"Whatever you want," Hannibal tells him, standing with their dishes.