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Summary
Hannibal doesn't respond, simply stares at him for a moment and tilts his head, angling for eye-contact.
"I see why you were a model." Will freezes, heat beating at his ears when he hears it. The comment sounds as if it's spoken in jest but he can't tell. He was never the best when it came to tone.
"Because models smoke?"
He doesn't answer, instead slowly pressing the cigarette in between his own plush lips, staring into the depths of Will's eyes all the while. Will doesn't know if he wants to fuck the guy or simply stare at his lips and see what happens. The idea of licking down his neck, putting a cigarette out on his tongue- Jesus, he has fucking problems. Hannibal, meanwhile, remains the perfect gentleman, stepping away and not blowing smoke in Will's direction.
or
24-year-old Ex-model Will needs a job. 26-year-old Editor-in-Chief (and partial owner) of a fashion company, Hannibal, needs another assistant