Work Text:
One day when Hannibal was sitting by the fireplace in the bar, with a glass of wine, reading the Professor's dissertation, the door opened and a dog came in all by herself.
She was a cheerful little spaniel bitch, white with dark chocolate colored markings, and the silkiest ears. She came right up to Hannibal and, after brief hesitation, greeted him as if he was her long-lost beloved master. Her collar said her name was Fanny and she stayed right with him, following him through his door to Baltimore.
Hannibal had always got on with dogs exceptionally well, but there was no place for her in his life, either public or private. Luckily, somebody he knew very well took in strays. Will Graham made a funny face when they were introduced, as if swallowing an immature comment at her name, but he liked her right away and gladly took her to Wolf Trap to run with his pack. She spent her nights curled up between Winston and that little ugly non-pug, he reported.
And then, he reported, on the fifth day of her stay he let the dogs out and Fanny never came back. He called her for hours and wandered the fields around his little house, but apparently she had taken to wandering again. Some dogs did.
The next time Hannibal came to the bar Fanny was there again, waiting for him by the fireplace and greeting him as cheerfully as ever.