"He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it...It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself." - "The Great Gatsby", F. Scott Fitzgerald
He smoothed his tie, touched up his hair, and smiled. Frowned. A little more tilt to the head, perhaps. Smile. Hmm. Bigger smile? No, not quite right either. He needed to get just the right reaction. A little sympathy, a little admiration. His was, after all, a noble cause. One he had been frustrated in so far. One that she would believe in, accept, offer help.
Smile. A sad smile. Resigned, yet hopeful. Yeah. Yeah, that was it. Hopeful. With a little determination added in.
She would believe that smile. Why not? It was the same smile Hannibal had when he talked about the future. The team's future.
Yeah, she would believe it.
Someday, even he might.