sybaritex:
He can tell she is in a bit of a rush, judging by her slightly faster breathing. His head tilts a little to the side in order to inspect the documents closely: temporary credentials –surely one of Crawford’s trainees. His first impression of Starling is overall positive: politeness is always appreciated and certainly, her choice of clothing doesn’t go unnoticed —Lecter is amused that his reputation precedes him, even though it has been quite some time since the Bureau last asked for his services. ❝ Pleasure to meet you, Miss Starling. ❞
A spark of curiosity ignites yet he’s prudent enough not to reveal too much, keen on maintaining an unreadable expression.
❝You’re not intruding. Would you like to join me in my office and tell me how I can be of assistance?❞
As a rule, he insisted on having healthy eating habits but perhaps —just perhaps, dinner could wait tonight.
“You too, sir.”
She tucks her credentials back in her breast pocket, offering a cordial smile--expression unreadable besides that. Politeness had been ingrained in her from all her time spent at the Lutheran Home--detached, southern cordiality at its finest.
Pushing dark hair over her shoulder, Starling stands tall, posture and pumps giving her some height. She feels extraordinarily out of place in the extravagant office with its elaborate, elegant, expensive decorum--even behind the guise of her best bag and silk blouse and not-so-expensive shoes. Taste, however, doesn’t intimidate her, nor does the office. Nor does the doctor himself.
Eyes wandering about the waiting room, she flicks her gaze to meet his features. Dr. Hannibal Lecter is tall, erect, European. She profiles on instinct and partly blames her psych degree.
"Yes, please. I’d thought Mr. Crawford would’ve told you I was coming.”
