Clarice Starling

It was… screaming. Some kind of screaming, like a child's voice.

[toptony]

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

[toptony]

I graduated from UVA, Doctor. it’s not a charm school. Good. Then you should be able to remember the rules.

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[serialgourmet]

“Good morning...”

It caught the young woman off-guard with good reason; Hannibal Lecter had already been expecting her.

The doctor’s speaking voice was a harsh whisper, strained from years of self-imposed silence. But now, Dr. Lecter was speaking, and to her.

“You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, aren’t you?” Hannibal said with a wink and a smile.

Frederick Chilton had most certainly warned Clarice not to touch or approach the glass, so Dr. Hannibal Lecter set his sights on testing her resolve.

“May I please see your credentials, @savinglambs?”

[savinglambs]

"Of course..."

Clarice pulled her credentials from her pocket, flipping open the small, leather folder for him, moving closer to the glass.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Her hand though, was unwavering as she held it out in front of her, like a shield.

When she heard the drawn out "clo-ser" from Dr. Lecter, she took the last step, winding up just in front of the glass. As close as she dared to get, but defying Dr. Chilton's orders all the same. She made her own decisions, and if to get Dr. Lecter to trust her, she'd gladly break some rules.

[serialgourmet]

“Closer...” Hannibal beckoned, a spider to her proverbial fly.

He drank in her fear and savored it as she took another timid step forward.

He glanced at her credentials and frowned.

“That expires in one week. You’re not real FBI, are you?”

There was a sickly sweet overtone in his voice which made his feigned politeness all the more horrifying—Clarice Starling knew good and well what Hannibal Lecter was capable of.

Even behind a wall of impenetrable glass, there was something entirely disconcerting about Dr. Lecter.

[savinglambs]

Clarice tucked her credentials away, giving him a slightly sheepish look.

"I'm still in training, at the academy."

Her eyes moved away from him, taking in the small, confined cell that was Hannibal's world. There were several drawings on his walls, done with what looked to be charcoal, the detail of each one was astounding and breathtaking.

When her eyes landed back on Hannibal, she offered a small smile. Barely a lift of her lips. Honesty was the only thing that would do.

[serialgourmet]

The look on his face was one of sheer astonishment.

“Jack Crawford sent a trainee...to me??”

Hannibal shook his head as he paced the length of the cell. When he turned back, his bright blue eyes cut through her like a sharpened blade. He never seemed to blink. His gaze was unsettling.

[savinglambs]

"Yes, sir. I'm a student, at the academy. I'm here to learn from you."

Clarice kept her eyes on him.

"Maybe you can decide, Dr. Lecter, if I'm qualified enough to do just that."

It was the truth, but coated in a little bit of honey. Maybe he'd cooperate if she let him see that this was important to her.

[serialgourmet]

“Hmm...that is rather slippery of you, Agent Starling.”

Hannibal forced a smile. The woman was cunning. Now was the time to make her increasingly uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

“Multiple Miggs hissed something at you earlier...what did he say?”

Lecter’s voice, suddenly so unfathomably innocent in tone; a clear betrayal of the monster deep within.

He looked at Clarice, his blue eyes unwavering.

It was now or never...

[savinglambs]

Clarice paused. It wasn't something she had wanted to repeat. Squaring her shoulders, she looked Hannibal in the eye, her chin lifting.

"He said... I can smell your cunt."

Standing tall, and almost proud, her gaze remained unwavering. Not even a blush colored her cheeks. It hadn't bothered her. Not really. After all, he was behind bars in a mental institution.

Her intuition told her that Hannibal was playing a game. Which one... she wasn't sure.

[serialgourmet]

“I see...” Dr. Lecter replied, crippling her as he deliberately arched his sleek head back and inhaled deeply.

“I myself cannot. You use Evyan skin cream. Sometimes you wear L’air du Temps....but not today....”

Another wink at Starling. She was coming unglued.

So be it.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was startled into silence for a minute. Her lips parting ever so slightly.

Then her eyes glanced off to the side, taking in the charcoal and parchment drawings that adorned Hannibal's walls.

"Did you do all those drawings, Dr. Lecter?"

Her voice was quiet, respectful.

[serialgourmet]

A flicker of a smile at her shrewd observation. Then, Lecter’s sarcasm drove in as sharp as a knife.

“Do you think I called in a decorator?”

He glanced at the drawing that she had gazed at only moments before.

“That is the Duomo, as seen from the Belvedere. Do you know Florence?”

Blue eyes searched her face, hopeful for some sort of connection. He could tell, however, that her answer was a resounding no.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was taken aback by his rude reply. Something she'd never expected to hear from a man of his... stature.

The barb didn't even flicker across her face.

Instead, she gave him the smallest, softest smile. Her voice quiet as she looked at him once more, her blue eyes rivaling his.

"All that detail from memory, Doctor?"

[serialgourmet]

“Memory, Agent Starling, is what I have instead of a view.”

The woman was bold to push back at him the way she did. Even the glass couldn’t protect against his assaults upon her mind. He would dissect and pry until he had gained a stronghold, and then like wormwood, he would manifest himself within like a cancer.

“How is dear Jack Crawford? Still taking his heart medicine? I do hope he warned you to tread lightly in my presence, Clarice. Otherwise...things could become rather tedious.”

[savinglambs]

Clarice ignores the next obstacle thrown at her. She wasn't interested in what Hannibal had to say about Jack Crawford.

Instead, she pulls the thick questionnaire from her briefcase, holding it in both hands.

"Dr. Lecter, would you mind going through this questionnaire and filling it out? We're doing a study and we'd like to get your perspective on a few things."

A half smile, a small shrug. Would he? Or wouldn't he.

[serialgourmet]

“Tsk tsk tsk...oh no...”

Hannibal turned his back, his voice projecting disappointment.

“No no no...you were doing fine. You had been courteous, you had established trust with the embarrassing truth with Miggs...now this sudden ham-handed segue into some random questionnaire? It simply won’t do.”

Slowly, he turned back to face her.

“I had hoped you’d be brighter than this, Agent Starling.”

[savinglambs]

Clarice held herself still, her chin lifting ever so slightly. Ever so... defiantly. Having been used to push back all her life, she genuinely wasn't surprised at all that Hannibal had balked at her request.

Standing very still, her head tilted, acknowledging his words, her voice steady when she replied.

"Either you will, or you won't, Doctor. The choice is your."

[serialgourmet]

Hannibal nodded to the sliding tray as she sent the documents through.

Thumbing through it, he laughed.

“Oh, Agent Starling, you think you can dissect me with this blunt little tool?”

He looked down at the document almost as if it stung. Perhaps others could be categorized onto paper, but not him.

He was Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and he was nobodys specimen.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was horrified to hear the southern twang he'd added to his voice.

Mocking her own soft, southern accent.

"No, sir. I didn't think that at all."

At a loss for words she could only hope that he truly didn't belive what he'd just said to her. His mockery of her though, that truly hurt. She'd desperately tried to tone down her southern accent. Had tried to smother the tones and rolled vowels that had been her childhood.

[serialgourmet]

“You’re so smart, aren’t you?”

His tone was sharp as a dagger as he approached the glass.

“Do you know what you look like with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube.

A well-scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste. Good nutrition’s given you some length of bone, but you’re no more than one generation from poor white trash, are you?”

He exaggerated the accent, drinking in her discomfort as if it were a fine wine.

“And oh, how quickly the boys found you...all those tedious, sticky fumblings in the backseats of cars. Let me tell you something specific about yourself, Clarice Starling. Back at home, you have a string of gold add-a-beads somewhere in the jewelry box on your dresser. You feel an ugly little thump somewhere in your mind as you think of them now. All those long nights, fumbling in the dark for each and every bead...

Tacky. Tedious. Isn’t that so?

Being smart spoils a lot of things, doesn’t it? And taste is never kind. When you think about this conversation, you’ll remember the dumb animal hurt in his face when you got rid of him.

Clarice? If the beads got tacky, what else will as you go along? I bet you must wonder that, late at night...”

[savinglambs]

Just like that, in the span of what felt like an eternity, which was only about two minutes in reality... she was exposed.

Ripped open. Torn. Shredded.

Clarice held her head high, her back straight as an arrow as it pressed against the metal folding chair.

"You see a lot, Doctor?"

Her voice was quiet, but tinged with anger.

"But, are you strong enough to point that... high-powered perception at yourself?"

Blue eyes dropped to the questionnaire he held, then back up to his face.

"What about it? Why don't you... why don't you look at yourself? Write down what you see.

A half smile and a soft shake of her head.

"Or maybe, you're afraid to."

[serialgourmet]

For a moment, there was mirth behind those bright blue eyes. Then, just as suddenly, there was hostility.

“A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.”

His voice was calm, betraying the monster before her.

Then, throwing her off guard, he made a slurping noise that shook Clarice to her core.

Hannibal gave a smile before turning his back.

“You fly back to school now, Little Starling...fly fly fly...”

As she got up, he whispered the words again like a mantra.

“Fly fly fly...”

[savinglambs]

Clarice shook slightly as she picked up her briefcase, knowing that she had failed. Knowing she'd gotten nothing.

As she walked past Miggs cell, she saw him laying on his cot, saying how he'd bitten his wrists. He yelled at her, asking her if she'd could see the blood, as he flung it at her.

Only, it wasn't blood. It was semen.

Gasping, horrified at what had just happened, she wiped at her face, wanting to run.

Wanting to fly away as Dr. Lecter had instructed her to.

Her steps faltered and another inmate began yelling. Then, she heard Hannibal shout for her.

Like a beacon, cutting through the din.

[serialgourmet]

“Agent Starling, Agent Starling!!!”

He could see that Clarice didn’t wish to return to him, however she did want to be out of Miggs’ line of sight, and so she found herself face to face with Hannibal Lecter once more.

Hannibal knew what unspeakable action had befallen her. He could smell that she had been defiled and it infuriated him. Clarice had been his guest. He spoke now as something between monster and man.

“Agent Starling, I would never have had that happen to you. Discourtesy is something unspeakable to me. So I will give you something you do want: a chance at advancement. Valentine’s Day is almost here. I have a special Valentine for you. Look deep within yourself Agent Starling. Seek out Miss Hester Moffet. Go...GO NOW!!!”

[savinglambs]

Clarice fled. Her footsteps echoing throughout the dungeon-like corridor, her breath catching in constricted lungs.

Sbe wanted to scream. She wanted to drop to the ground and weep. But, like everything she did, she pushed on.

Before Clarice had even gotten to her car, she had thought back to her childhood. To her father. To a time when he'd just come home from work, his shiny badge pinned to his shirt.

Hannibal had gotten under her skin, she'd let him.

Why? And why had she let him?

Getting into her vehicle, she closed the door and started the drive back to Virginia. Back to Jack Crawford.

She had a report to give.

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[serialgourmet]

“Good morning...”

It caught the young woman off-guard with good reason; Hannibal Lecter had already been expecting her.

The doctor’s speaking voice was a harsh whisper, strained from years of self-imposed silence. But now, Dr. Lecter was speaking, and to her.

“You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, aren’t you?” Hannibal said with a wink and a smile.

Frederick Chilton had most certainly warned Clarice not to touch or approach the glass, so Dr. Hannibal Lecter set his sights on testing her resolve.

“May I please see your credentials, @savinglambs?”

[savinglambs]

"Of course..."

Clarice pulled her credentials from her pocket, flipping open the small, leather folder for him, moving closer to the glass.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Her hand though, was unwavering as she held it out in front of her, like a shield.

When she heard the drawn out "clo-ser" from Dr. Lecter, she took the last step, winding up just in front of the glass. As close as she dared to get, but defying Dr. Chilton's orders all the same. She made her own decisions, and if to get Dr. Lecter to trust her, she'd gladly break some rules.

[serialgourmet]

“Closer...” Hannibal beckoned, a spider to her proverbial fly.

He drank in her fear and savored it as she took another timid step forward.

He glanced at her credentials and frowned.

“That expires in one week. You’re not real FBI, are you?”

There was a sickly sweet overtone in his voice which made his feigned politeness all the more horrifying—Clarice Starling knew good and well what Hannibal Lecter was capable of.

Even behind a wall of impenetrable glass, there was something entirely disconcerting about Dr. Lecter.

[savinglambs]

Clarice tucked her credentials away, giving him a slightly sheepish look.

"I'm still in training, at the academy."

Her eyes moved away from him, taking in the small, confined cell that was Hannibal's world. There were several drawings on his walls, done with what looked to be charcoal, the detail of each one was astounding and breathtaking.

When her eyes landed back on Hannibal, she offered a small smile. Barely a lift of her lips. Honesty was the only thing that would do.

[serialgourmet]

The look on his face was one of sheer astonishment.

“Jack Crawford sent a trainee...to me??”

Hannibal shook his head as he paced the length of the cell. When he turned back, his bright blue eyes cut through her like a sharpened blade. He never seemed to blink. His gaze was unsettling.

[savinglambs]

"Yes, sir. I'm a student, at the academy. I'm here to learn from you."

Clarice kept her eyes on him.

"Maybe you can decide, Dr. Lecter, if I'm qualified enough to do just that."

It was the truth, but coated in a little bit of honey. Maybe he'd cooperate if she let him see that this was important to her.

[serialgourmet]

“Hmm...that is rather slippery of you, Agent Starling.”

Hannibal forced a smile. The woman was cunning. Now was the time to make her increasingly uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

“Multiple Miggs hissed something at you earlier...what did he say?”

Lecter’s voice, suddenly so unfathomably innocent in tone; a clear betrayal of the monster deep within.

He looked at Clarice, his blue eyes unwavering.

It was now or never...

[savinglambs]

Clarice paused. It wasn't something she had wanted to repeat. Squaring her shoulders, she looked Hannibal in the eye, her chin lifting.

"He said... I can smell your cunt."

Standing tall, and almost proud, her gaze remained unwavering. Not even a blush colored her cheeks. It hadn't bothered her. Not really. After all, he was behind bars in a mental institution.

Her intuition told her that Hannibal was playing a game. Which one... she wasn't sure.

[serialgourmet]

“I see...” Dr. Lecter replied, crippling her as he deliberately arched his sleek head back and inhaled deeply.

“I myself cannot. You use Evyan skin cream. Sometimes you wear L’air du Temps....but not today....”

Another wink at Starling. She was coming unglued.

So be it.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was startled into silence for a minute. Her lips parting ever so slightly.

Then her eyes glanced off to the side, taking in the charcoal and parchment drawings that adorned Hannibal's walls.

"Did you do all those drawings, Dr. Lecter?"

Her voice was quiet, respectful.

[serialgourmet]

A flicker of a smile at her shrewd observation. Then, Lecter’s sarcasm drove in as sharp as a knife.

“Do you think I called in a decorator?”

He glanced at the drawing that she had gazed at only moments before.

“That is the Duomo, as seen from the Belvedere. Do you know Florence?”

Blue eyes searched her face, hopeful for some sort of connection. He could tell, however, that her answer was a resounding no.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was taken aback by his rude reply. Something she'd never expected to hear from a man of his... stature.

The barb didn't even flicker across her face.

Instead, she gave him the smallest, softest smile. Her voice quiet as she looked at him once more, her blue eyes rivaling his.

"All that detail from memory, Doctor?"

[serialgourmet]

“Memory, Agent Starling, is what I have instead of a view.”

The woman was bold to push back at him the way she did. Even the glass couldn’t protect against his assaults upon her mind. He would dissect and pry until he had gained a stronghold, and then like wormwood, he would manifest himself within like a cancer.

“How is dear Jack Crawford? Still taking his heart medicine? I do hope he warned you to tread lightly in my presence, Clarice. Otherwise...things could become rather tedious.”

[savinglambs]

Clarice ignores the next obstacle thrown at her. She wasn't interested in what Hannibal had to say about Jack Crawford.

Instead, she pulls the thick questionnaire from her briefcase, holding it in both hands.

"Dr. Lecter, would you mind going through this questionnaire and filling it out? We're doing a study and we'd like to get your perspective on a few things."

A half smile, a small shrug. Would he? Or wouldn't he.

[serialgourmet]

“Tsk tsk tsk...oh no...”

Hannibal turned his back, his voice projecting disappointment.

“No no no...you were doing fine. You had been courteous, you had established trust with the embarrassing truth with Miggs...now this sudden ham-handed segue into some random questionnaire? It simply won’t do.”

Slowly, he turned back to face her.

“I had hoped you’d be brighter than this, Agent Starling.”

[savinglambs]

Clarice held herself still, her chin lifting ever so slightly. Ever so... defiantly. Having been used to push back all her life, she genuinely wasn't surprised at all that Hannibal had balked at her request.

Standing very still, her head tilted, acknowledging his words, her voice steady when she replied.

"Either you will, or you won't, Doctor. The choice is your."

[serialgourmet]

Hannibal nodded to the sliding tray as she sent the documents through.

Thumbing through it, he laughed.

“Oh, Agent Starling, you think you can dissect me with this blunt little tool?”

He looked down at the document almost as if it stung. Perhaps others could be categorized onto paper, but not him.

He was Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and he was nobodys specimen.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was horrified to hear the southern twang he'd added to his voice.

Mocking her own soft, southern accent.

"No, sir. I didn't think that at all."

At a loss for words she could only hope that he truly didn't belive what he'd just said to her. His mockery of her though, that truly hurt. She'd desperately tried to tone down her southern accent. Had tried to smother the tones and rolled vowels that had been her childhood.

[serialgourmet]

“You’re so smart, aren’t you?”

His tone was sharp as a dagger as he approached the glass.

“Do you know what you look like with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube.

A well-scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste. Good nutrition’s given you some length of bone, but you’re no more than one generation from poor white trash, are you?”

He exaggerated the accent, drinking in her discomfort as if it were a fine wine.

“And oh, how quickly the boys found you...all those tedious, sticky fumblings in the backseats of cars. Let me tell you something specific about yourself, Clarice Starling. Back at home, you have a string of gold add-a-beads somewhere in the jewelry box on your dresser. You feel an ugly little thump somewhere in your mind as you think of them now. All those long nights, fumbling in the dark for each and every bead...

Tacky. Tedious. Isn’t that so?

Being smart spoils a lot of things, doesn’t it? And taste is never kind. When you think about this conversation, you’ll remember the dumb animal hurt in his face when you got rid of him.

Clarice? If the beads got tacky, what else will as you go along? I bet you must wonder that, late at night...”

[savinglambs]

Just like that, in the span of what felt like an eternity, which was only about two minutes in reality... she was exposed.

Ripped open. Torn. Shredded.

Clarice held her head high, her back straight as an arrow as it pressed against the metal folding chair.

"You see a lot, Doctor?"

Her voice was quiet, but tinged with anger.

"But, are you strong enough to point that... high-powered perception at yourself?"

Blue eyes dropped to the questionnaire he held, then back up to his face.

"What about it? Why don't you... why don't you look at yourself? Write down what you see.

A half smile and a soft shake of her head.

"Or maybe, you're afraid to."

[serialgourmet]

For a moment, there was mirth behind those bright blue eyes. Then, just as suddenly, there was hostility.

“A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.”

His voice was calm, betraying the monster before her.

Then, throwing her off guard, he made a slurping noise that shook Clarice to her core.

Hannibal gave a smile before turning his back.

“You fly back to school now, Little Starling...fly fly fly...”

As she got up, he whispered the words again like a mantra.

“Fly fly fly...”

[savinglambs]

Clarice shook slightly as she picked up her briefcase, knowing that she had failed. Knowing she'd gotten nothing.

As she walked past Miggs cell, she saw him laying on his cot, saying how he'd bitten his wrists. He yelled at her, asking her if she'd could see the blood, as he flung it at her.

Only, it wasn't blood. It was semen.

Gasping, horrified at what had just happened, she wiped at her face, wanting to run.

Wanting to fly away as Dr. Lecter had instructed her to.

Her steps faltered and another inmate began yelling. Then, she heard Hannibal shout for her.

Like a beacon, cutting through the din.

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[serialgourmet]

“Good morning...”

It caught the young woman off-guard with good reason; Hannibal Lecter had already been expecting her.

The doctor’s speaking voice was a harsh whisper, strained from years of self-imposed silence. But now, Dr. Lecter was speaking, and to her.

“You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, aren’t you?” Hannibal said with a wink and a smile.

Frederick Chilton had most certainly warned Clarice not to touch or approach the glass, so Dr. Hannibal Lecter set his sights on testing her resolve.

“May I please see your credentials, @savinglambs?”

[savinglambs]

"Of course..."

Clarice pulled her credentials from her pocket, flipping open the small, leather folder for him, moving closer to the glass.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Her hand though, was unwavering as she held it out in front of her, like a shield.

When she heard the drawn out "clo-ser" from Dr. Lecter, she took the last step, winding up just in front of the glass. As close as she dared to get, but defying Dr. Chilton's orders all the same. She made her own decisions, and if to get Dr. Lecter to trust her, she'd gladly break some rules.

[serialgourmet]

“Closer...” Hannibal beckoned, a spider to her proverbial fly.

He drank in her fear and savored it as she took another timid step forward.

He glanced at her credentials and frowned.

“That expires in one week. You’re not real FBI, are you?”

There was a sickly sweet overtone in his voice which made his feigned politeness all the more horrifying—Clarice Starling knew good and well what Hannibal Lecter was capable of.

Even behind a wall of impenetrable glass, there was something entirely disconcerting about Dr. Lecter.

[savinglambs]

Clarice tucked her credentials away, giving him a slightly sheepish look.

"I'm still in training, at the academy."

Her eyes moved away from him, taking in the small, confined cell that was Hannibal's world. There were several drawings on his walls, done with what looked to be charcoal, the detail of each one was astounding and breathtaking.

When her eyes landed back on Hannibal, she offered a small smile. Barely a lift of her lips. Honesty was the only thing that would do.

[serialgourmet]

The look on his face was one of sheer astonishment.

“Jack Crawford sent a trainee...to me??”

Hannibal shook his head as he paced the length of the cell. When he turned back, his bright blue eyes cut through her like a sharpened blade. He never seemed to blink. His gaze was unsettling.

[savinglambs]

"Yes, sir. I'm a student, at the academy. I'm here to learn from you."

Clarice kept her eyes on him.

"Maybe you can decide, Dr. Lecter, if I'm qualified enough to do just that."

It was the truth, but coated in a little bit of honey. Maybe he'd cooperate if she let him see that this was important to her.

[serialgourmet]

“Hmm...that is rather slippery of you, Agent Starling.”

Hannibal forced a smile. The woman was cunning. Now was the time to make her increasingly uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

“Multiple Miggs hissed something at you earlier...what did he say?”

Lecter’s voice, suddenly so unfathomably innocent in tone; a clear betrayal of the monster deep within.

He looked at Clarice, his blue eyes unwavering.

It was now or never...

[savinglambs]

Clarice paused. It wasn't something she had wanted to repeat. Squaring her shoulders, she looked Hannibal in the eye, her chin lifting.

"He said... I can smell your cunt."

Standing tall, and almost proud, her gaze remained unwavering. Not even a blush colored her cheeks. It hadn't bothered her. Not really. After all, he was behind bars in a mental institution.

Her intuition told her that Hannibal was playing a game. Which one... she wasn't sure.

[serialgourmet]

“I see...” Dr. Lecter replied, crippling her as he deliberately arched his sleek head back and inhaled deeply.

“I myself cannot. You use Evyan skin cream. Sometimes you wear L’air du Temps....but not today....”

Another wink at Starling. She was coming unglued.

So be it.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was startled into silence for a minute. Her lips parting ever so slightly.

Then her eyes glanced off to the side, taking in the charcoal and parchment drawings that adorned Hannibal's walls.

"Did you do all those drawings, Dr. Lecter?"

Her voice was quiet, respectful.

[serialgourmet]

A flicker of a smile at her shrewd observation. Then, Lecter’s sarcasm drove in as sharp as a knife.

“Do you think I called in a decorator?”

He glanced at the drawing that she had gazed at only moments before.

“That is the Duomo, as seen from the Belvedere. Do you know Florence?”

Blue eyes searched her face, hopeful for some sort of connection. He could tell, however, that her answer was a resounding no.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was taken aback by his rude reply. Something she'd never expected to hear from a man of his... stature.

The barb didn't even flicker across her face.

Instead, she gave him the smallest, softest smile. Her voice quiet as she looked at him once more, her blue eyes rivaling his.

"All that detail from memory, Doctor?"

[serialgourmet]

“Memory, Agent Starling, is what I have instead of a view.”

The woman was bold to push back at him the way she did. Even the glass couldn’t protect against his assaults upon her mind. He would dissect and pry until he had gained a stronghold, and then like wormwood, he would manifest himself within like a cancer.

“How is dear Jack Crawford? Still taking his heart medicine? I do hope he warned you to tread lightly in my presence, Clarice. Otherwise...things could become rather tedious.”

[savinglambs]

Clarice ignores the next obstacle thrown at her. She wasn't interested in what Hannibal had to say about Jack Crawford.

Instead, she pulls the thick questionnaire from her briefcase, holding it in both hands.

"Dr. Lecter, would you mind going through this questionnaire and filling it out? We're doing a study and we'd like to get your perspective on a few things."

A half smile, a small shrug. Would he? Or wouldn't he.

[serialgourmet]

“Tsk tsk tsk...oh no...”

Hannibal turned his back, his voice projecting disappointment.

“No no no...you were doing fine. You had been courteous, you had established trust with the embarrassing truth with Miggs...now this sudden ham-handed segue into some random questionnaire? It simply won’t do.”

Slowly, he turned back to face her.

“I had hoped you’d be brighter than this, Agent Starling.”

[savinglambs]

Clarice held herself still, her chin lifting ever so slightly. Ever so... defiantly. Having been used to push back all her life, she genuinely wasn't surprised at all that Hannibal had balked at her request.

Standing very still, her head tilted, acknowledging his words, her voice steady when she replied.

"Either you will, or you won't, Doctor. The choice is your."

[serialgourmet]

Hannibal nodded to the sliding tray as she sent the documents through.

Thumbing through it, he laughed.

“Oh, Agent Starling, you think you can dissect me with this blunt little tool?”

He looked down at the document almost as if it stung. Perhaps others could be categorized onto paper, but not him.

He was Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and he was nobodys specimen.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was horrified to hear the southern twang he'd added to his voice.

Mocking her own soft, southern accent.

"No, sir. I didn't think that at all."

At a loss for words she could only hope that he truly didn't belive what he'd just said to her. His mockery of her though, that truly hurt. She'd desperately tried to tone down her southern accent. Had tried to smother the tones and rolled vowels that had been her childhood.

[serialgourmet]

“You’re so smart, aren’t you?”

His tone was sharp as a dagger as he approached the glass.

“Do you know what you look like with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube.

A well-scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste. Good nutrition’s given you some length of bone, but you’re no more than one generation from poor white trash, are you?”

He exaggerated the accent, drinking in her discomfort as if it were a fine wine.

“And oh, how quickly the boys found you...all those tedious, sticky fumblings in the backseats of cars. Let me tell you something specific about yourself, Clarice Starling. Back at home, you have a string of gold add-a-beads somewhere in the jewelry box on your dresser. You feel an ugly little thump somewhere in your mind as you think of them now. All those long nights, fumbling in the dark for each and every bead...

Tacky. Tedious. Isn’t that so?

Being smart spoils a lot of things, doesn’t it? And taste is never kind. When you think about this conversation, you’ll remember the dumb animal hurt in his face when you got rid of him.

Clarice? If the beads got tacky, what else will as you go along? I bet you must wonder that, late at night...”

[savinglambs]

Just like that, in the span of what felt like an eternity, which was only about two minutes in reality... she was exposed.

Ripped open. Torn. Shredded.

Clarice held her head high, her back straight as an arrow as it pressed against the metal folding chair.

"You see a lot, Doctor?"

Her voice was quiet, but tinged with anger.

"But, are you strong enough to point that... high-powered perception at yourself?"

Blue eyes dropped to the questionnaire he held, then back up to his face.

"What about it? Why don't you... why don't you look at yourself? Write down what you see.

A half smile and a soft shake of her head.

"Or maybe, you're afraid to."

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[serialgourmet]

“Good morning...”

It caught the young woman off-guard with good reason; Hannibal Lecter had already been expecting her.

The doctor’s speaking voice was a harsh whisper, strained from years of self-imposed silence. But now, Dr. Lecter was speaking, and to her.

“You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, aren’t you?” Hannibal said with a wink and a smile.

Frederick Chilton had most certainly warned Clarice not to touch or approach the glass, so Dr. Hannibal Lecter set his sights on testing her resolve.

“May I please see your credentials, @savinglambs?”

[savinglambs]

"Of course..."

Clarice pulled her credentials from her pocket, flipping open the small, leather folder for him, moving closer to the glass.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Her hand though, was unwavering as she held it out in front of her, like a shield.

When she heard the drawn out "clo-ser" from Dr. Lecter, she took the last step, winding up just in front of the glass. As close as she dared to get, but defying Dr. Chilton's orders all the same. She made her own decisions, and if to get Dr. Lecter to trust her, she'd gladly break some rules.

[serialgourmet]

“Closer...” Hannibal beckoned, a spider to her proverbial fly.

He drank in her fear and savored it as she took another timid step forward.

He glanced at her credentials and frowned.

“That expires in one week. You’re not real FBI, are you?”

There was a sickly sweet overtone in his voice which made his feigned politeness all the more horrifying—Clarice Starling knew good and well what Hannibal Lecter was capable of.

Even behind a wall of impenetrable glass, there was something entirely disconcerting about Dr. Lecter.

[savinglambs]

Clarice tucked her credentials away, giving him a slightly sheepish look.

"I'm still in training, at the academy."

Her eyes moved away from him, taking in the small, confined cell that was Hannibal's world. There were several drawings on his walls, done with what looked to be charcoal, the detail of each one was astounding and breathtaking.

When her eyes landed back on Hannibal, she offered a small smile. Barely a lift of her lips. Honesty was the only thing that would do.

[serialgourmet]

The look on his face was one of sheer astonishment.

“Jack Crawford sent a trainee...to me??”

Hannibal shook his head as he paced the length of the cell. When he turned back, his bright blue eyes cut through her like a sharpened blade. He never seemed to blink. His gaze was unsettling.

[savinglambs]

"Yes, sir. I'm a student, at the academy. I'm here to learn from you."

Clarice kept her eyes on him.

"Maybe you can decide, Dr. Lecter, if I'm qualified enough to do just that."

It was the truth, but coated in a little bit of honey. Maybe he'd cooperate if she let him see that this was important to her.

[serialgourmet]

“Hmm...that is rather slippery of you, Agent Starling.”

Hannibal forced a smile. The woman was cunning. Now was the time to make her increasingly uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

“Multiple Miggs hissed something at you earlier...what did he say?”

Lecter’s voice, suddenly so unfathomably innocent in tone; a clear betrayal of the monster deep within.

He looked at Clarice, his blue eyes unwavering.

It was now or never...

[savinglambs]

Clarice paused. It wasn't something she had wanted to repeat. Squaring her shoulders, she looked Hannibal in the eye, her chin lifting.

"He said... I can smell your cunt."

Standing tall, and almost proud, her gaze remained unwavering. Not even a blush colored her cheeks. It hadn't bothered her. Not really. After all, he was behind bars in a mental institution.

Her intuition told her that Hannibal was playing a game. Which one... she wasn't sure.

[serialgourmet]

“I see...” Dr. Lecter replied, crippling her as he deliberately arched his sleek head back and inhaled deeply.

“I myself cannot. You use Evyan skin cream. Sometimes you wear L’air du Temps....but not today....”

Another wink at Starling. She was coming unglued.

So be it.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was startled into silence for a minute. Her lips parting ever so slightly.

Then her eyes glanced off to the side, taking in the charcoal and parchment drawings that adorned Hannibal's walls.

"Did you do all those drawings, Dr. Lecter?"

Her voice was quiet, respectful.

[serialgourmet]

A flicker of a smile at her shrewd observation. Then, Lecter’s sarcasm drove in as sharp as a knife.

“Do you think I called in a decorator?”

He glanced at the drawing that she had gazed at only moments before.

“That is the Duomo, as seen from the Belvedere. Do you know Florence?”

Blue eyes searched her face, hopeful for some sort of connection. He could tell, however, that her answer was a resounding no.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was taken aback by his rude reply. Something she'd never expected to hear from a man of his... stature.

The barb didn't even flicker across her face.

Instead, she gave him the smallest, softest smile. Her voice quiet as she looked at him once more, her blue eyes rivaling his.

"All that detail from memory, Doctor?"

[serialgourmet]

“Memory, Agent Starling, is what I have instead of a view.”

The woman was bold to push back at him the way she did. Even the glass couldn’t protect against his assaults upon her mind. He would dissect and pry until he had gained a stronghold, and then like wormwood, he would manifest himself within like a cancer.

“How is dear Jack Crawford? Still taking his heart medicine? I do hope he warned you to tread lightly in my presence, Clarice. Otherwise...things could become rather tedious.”

[savinglambs]

Clarice ignores the next obstacle thrown at her. She wasn't interested in what Hannibal had to say about Jack Crawford.

Instead, she pulls the thick questionnaire from her briefcase, holding it in both hands.

"Dr. Lecter, would you mind going through this questionnaire and filling it out? We're doing a study and we'd like to get your perspective on a few things."

A half smile, a small shrug. Would he? Or wouldn't he.

[serialgourmet]

“Tsk tsk tsk...oh no...”

Hannibal turned his back, his voice projecting disappointment.

“No no no...you were doing fine. You had been courteous, you had established trust with the embarrassing truth with Miggs...now this sudden ham-handed segue into some random questionnaire? It simply won’t do.”

Slowly, he turned back to face her.

“I had hoped you’d be brighter than this, Agent Starling.”

[savinglambs]

Clarice held herself still, her chin lifting ever so slightly. Ever so... defiantly. Having been used to push back all her life, she genuinely wasn't surprised at all that Hannibal had balked at her request.

Standing very still, her head tilted, acknowledging his words, her voice steady when she replied.

"Either you will, or you won't, Doctor. The choice is your."

[serialgourmet]

Hannibal nodded to the sliding tray as she sent the documents through.

Thumbing through it, he laughed.

“Oh, Agent Starling, you think you can dissect me with this blunt little tool?”

He looked down at the document almost as if it stung. Perhaps others could be categorized onto paper, but not him.

He was Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and he was nobodys specimen.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was horrified to hear the southern twang he'd added to his voice.

Mocking her own soft, southern accent.

"No, sir. I didn't think that at all."

At a loss for words she could only hope that he truly didn't belive what he'd just said to her. His mockery of her though, that truly hurt. She'd desperately tried to tone down her southern accent. Had tried to smother the tones and rolled vowels that had been her childhood.

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[serialgourmet]

“Good morning...”

It caught the young woman off-guard with good reason; Hannibal Lecter had already been expecting her.

The doctor’s speaking voice was a harsh whisper, strained from years of self-imposed silence. But now, Dr. Lecter was speaking, and to her.

“You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, aren’t you?” Hannibal said with a wink and a smile.

Frederick Chilton had most certainly warned Clarice not to touch or approach the glass, so Dr. Hannibal Lecter set his sights on testing her resolve.

“May I please see your credentials, @savinglambs?”

[savinglambs]

"Of course..."

Clarice pulled her credentials from her pocket, flipping open the small, leather folder for him, moving closer to the glass.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Her hand though, was unwavering as she held it out in front of her, like a shield.

When she heard the drawn out "clo-ser" from Dr. Lecter, she took the last step, winding up just in front of the glass. As close as she dared to get, but defying Dr. Chilton's orders all the same. She made her own decisions, and if to get Dr. Lecter to trust her, she'd gladly break some rules.

[serialgourmet]

“Closer...” Hannibal beckoned, a spider to her proverbial fly.

He drank in her fear and savored it as she took another timid step forward.

He glanced at her credentials and frowned.

“That expires in one week. You’re not real FBI, are you?”

There was a sickly sweet overtone in his voice which made his feigned politeness all the more horrifying—Clarice Starling knew good and well what Hannibal Lecter was capable of.

Even behind a wall of impenetrable glass, there was something entirely disconcerting about Dr. Lecter.

[savinglambs]

Clarice tucked her credentials away, giving him a slightly sheepish look.

"I'm still in training, at the academy."

Her eyes moved away from him, taking in the small, confined cell that was Hannibal's world. There were several drawings on his walls, done with what looked to be charcoal, the detail of each one was astounding and breathtaking.

When her eyes landed back on Hannibal, she offered a small smile. Barely a lift of her lips. Honesty was the only thing that would do.

[serialgourmet]

The look on his face was one of sheer astonishment.

“Jack Crawford sent a trainee...to me??”

Hannibal shook his head as he paced the length of the cell. When he turned back, his bright blue eyes cut through her like a sharpened blade. He never seemed to blink. His gaze was unsettling.

[savinglambs]

"Yes, sir. I'm a student, at the academy. I'm here to learn from you."

Clarice kept her eyes on him.

"Maybe you can decide, Dr. Lecter, if I'm qualified enough to do just that."

It was the truth, but coated in a little bit of honey. Maybe he'd cooperate if she let him see that this was important to her.

[serialgourmet]

“Hmm...that is rather slippery of you, Agent Starling.”

Hannibal forced a smile. The woman was cunning. Now was the time to make her increasingly uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

“Multiple Miggs hissed something at you earlier...what did he say?”

Lecter’s voice, suddenly so unfathomably innocent in tone; a clear betrayal of the monster deep within.

He looked at Clarice, his blue eyes unwavering.

It was now or never...

[savinglambs]

Clarice paused. It wasn't something she had wanted to repeat. Squaring her shoulders, she looked Hannibal in the eye, her chin lifting.

"He said... I can smell your cunt."

Standing tall, and almost proud, her gaze remained unwavering. Not even a blush colored her cheeks. It hadn't bothered her. Not really. After all, he was behind bars in a mental institution.

Her intuition told her that Hannibal was playing a game. Which one... she wasn't sure.

[serialgourmet]

“I see...” Dr. Lecter replied, crippling her as he deliberately arched his sleek head back and inhaled deeply.

“I myself cannot. You use Evyan skin cream. Sometimes you wear L’air du Temps....but not today....”

Another wink at Starling. She was coming unglued.

So be it.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was startled into silence for a minute. Her lips parting ever so slightly.

Then her eyes glanced off to the side, taking in the charcoal and parchment drawings that adorned Hannibal's walls.

"Did you do all those drawings, Dr. Lecter?"

Her voice was quiet, respectful.

[serialgourmet]

A flicker of a smile at her shrewd observation. Then, Lecter’s sarcasm drove in as sharp as a knife.

“Do you think I called in a decorator?”

He glanced at the drawing that she had gazed at only moments before.

“That is the Duomo, as seen from the Belvedere. Do you know Florence?”

Blue eyes searched her face, hopeful for some sort of connection. He could tell, however, that her answer was a resounding no.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was taken aback by his rude reply. Something she'd never expected to hear from a man of his... stature.

The barb didn't even flicker across her face.

Instead, she gave him the smallest, softest smile. Her voice quiet as she looked at him once more, her blue eyes rivaling his.

"All that detail from memory, Doctor?"

[serialgourmet]

“Memory, Agent Starling, is what I have instead of a view.”

The woman was bold to push back at him the way she did. Even the glass couldn’t protect against his assaults upon her mind. He would dissect and pry until he had gained a stronghold, and then like wormwood, he would manifest himself within like a cancer.

“How is dear Jack Crawford? Still taking his heart medicine? I do hope he warned you to tread lightly in my presence, Clarice. Otherwise...things could become rather tedious.”

[savinglambs]

Clarice ignores the next obstacle thrown at her. She wasn't interested in what Hannibal had to say about Jack Crawford.

Instead, she pulls the thick questionnaire from her briefcase, holding it in both hands.

"Dr. Lecter, would you mind going through this questionnaire and filling it out? We're doing a study and we'd like to get your perspective on a few things."

A half smile, a small shrug. Would he? Or wouldn't he.

[serialgourmet]

“Tsk tsk tsk...oh no...”

Hannibal turned his back, his voice projecting disappointment.

“No no no...you were doing fine. You had been courteous, you had established trust with the embarrassing truth with Miggs...now this sudden ham-handed segue into some random questionnaire? It simply won’t do.”

Slowly, he turned back to face her.

“I had hoped you’d be brighter than this, Agent Starling.”

[savinglambs]

Clarice held herself still, her chin lifting ever so slightly. Ever so... defiantly. Having been used to push back all her life, she genuinely wasn't surprised at all that Hannibal had balked at her request.

Standing very still, her head tilted, acknowledging his words, her voice steady when she replied.

"Either you will, or you won't, Doctor. The choice is your."

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[serialgourmet]

“Good morning...”

It caught the young woman off-guard with good reason; Hannibal Lecter had already been expecting her.

The doctor’s speaking voice was a harsh whisper, strained from years of self-imposed silence. But now, Dr. Lecter was speaking, and to her.

“You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, aren’t you?” Hannibal said with a wink and a smile.

Frederick Chilton had most certainly warned Clarice not to touch or approach the glass, so Dr. Hannibal Lecter set his sights on testing her resolve.

“May I please see your credentials, @savinglambs?”

[savinglambs]

"Of course..."

Clarice pulled her credentials from her pocket, flipping open the small, leather folder for him, moving closer to the glass.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Her hand though, was unwavering as she held it out in front of her, like a shield.

When she heard the drawn out "clo-ser" from Dr. Lecter, she took the last step, winding up just in front of the glass. As close as she dared to get, but defying Dr. Chilton's orders all the same. She made her own decisions, and if to get Dr. Lecter to trust her, she'd gladly break some rules.

[serialgourmet]

“Closer...” Hannibal beckoned, a spider to her proverbial fly.

He drank in her fear and savored it as she took another timid step forward.

He glanced at her credentials and frowned.

“That expires in one week. You’re not real FBI, are you?”

There was a sickly sweet overtone in his voice which made his feigned politeness all the more horrifying—Clarice Starling knew good and well what Hannibal Lecter was capable of.

Even behind a wall of impenetrable glass, there was something entirely disconcerting about Dr. Lecter.

[savinglambs]

Clarice tucked her credentials away, giving him a slightly sheepish look.

"I'm still in training, at the academy."

Her eyes moved away from him, taking in the small, confined cell that was Hannibal's world. There were several drawings on his walls, done with what looked to be charcoal, the detail of each one was astounding and breathtaking.

When her eyes landed back on Hannibal, she offered a small smile. Barely a lift of her lips. Honesty was the only thing that would do.

[serialgourmet]

The look on his face was one of sheer astonishment.

“Jack Crawford sent a trainee...to me??”

Hannibal shook his head as he paced the length of the cell. When he turned back, his bright blue eyes cut through her like a sharpened blade. He never seemed to blink. His gaze was unsettling.

[savinglambs]

"Yes, sir. I'm a student, at the academy. I'm here to learn from you."

Clarice kept her eyes on him.

"Maybe you can decide, Dr. Lecter, if I'm qualified enough to do just that."

It was the truth, but coated in a little bit of honey. Maybe he'd cooperate if she let him see that this was important to her.

[serialgourmet]

“Hmm...that is rather slippery of you, Agent Starling.”

Hannibal forced a smile. The woman was cunning. Now was the time to make her increasingly uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

“Multiple Miggs hissed something at you earlier...what did he say?”

Lecter’s voice, suddenly so unfathomably innocent in tone; a clear betrayal of the monster deep within.

He looked at Clarice, his blue eyes unwavering.

It was now or never...

[savinglambs]

Clarice paused. It wasn't something she had wanted to repeat. Squaring her shoulders, she looked Hannibal in the eye, her chin lifting.

"He said... I can smell your cunt."

Standing tall, and almost proud, her gaze remained unwavering. Not even a blush colored her cheeks. It hadn't bothered her. Not really. After all, he was behind bars in a mental institution.

Her intuition told her that Hannibal was playing a game. Which one... she wasn't sure.

[serialgourmet]

“I see...” Dr. Lecter replied, crippling her as he deliberately arched his sleek head back and inhaled deeply.

“I myself cannot. You use Evyan skin cream. Sometimes you wear L’air du Temps....but not today....”

Another wink at Starling. She was coming unglued.

So be it.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was startled into silence for a minute. Her lips parting ever so slightly.

Then her eyes glanced off to the side, taking in the charcoal and parchment drawings that adorned Hannibal's walls.

"Did you do all those drawings, Dr. Lecter?"

Her voice was quiet, respectful.

[serialgourmet]

A flicker of a smile at her shrewd observation. Then, Lecter’s sarcasm drove in as sharp as a knife.

“Do you think I called in a decorator?”

He glanced at the drawing that she had gazed at only moments before.

“That is the Duomo, as seen from the Belvedere. Do you know Florence?”

Blue eyes searched her face, hopeful for some sort of connection. He could tell, however, that her answer was a resounding no.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was taken aback by his rude reply. Something she'd never expected to hear from a man of his... stature.

The barb didn't even flicker across her face.

Instead, she gave him the smallest, softest smile. Her voice quiet as she looked at him once more, her blue eyes rivaling his.

"All that detail from memory, Doctor?"

[serialgourmet]

“Memory, Agent Starling, is what I have instead of a view.”

The woman was bold to push back at him the way she did. Even the glass couldn’t protect against his assaults upon her mind. He would dissect and pry until he had gained a stronghold, and then like wormwood, he would manifest himself within like a cancer.

“How is dear Jack Crawford? Still taking his heart medicine? I do hope he warned you to tread lightly in my presence, Clarice. Otherwise...things could become rather tedious.”

[savinglambs]

Clarice ignores the next obstacle thrown at her. She wasn't interested in what Hannibal had to say about Jack Crawford.

Instead, she pulls the thick questionnaire from her briefcase, holding it in both hands.

"Dr. Lecter, would you mind going through this questionnaire and filling it out? We're doing a study and we'd like to get your perspective on a few things."

A half smile, a small shrug. Would he? Or wouldn't he.

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[serialgourmet]

“Good morning...”

It caught the young woman off-guard with good reason; Hannibal Lecter had already been expecting her.

The doctor’s speaking voice was a harsh whisper, strained from years of self-imposed silence. But now, Dr. Lecter was speaking, and to her.

“You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, aren’t you?” Hannibal said with a wink and a smile.

Frederick Chilton had most certainly warned Clarice not to touch or approach the glass, so Dr. Hannibal Lecter set his sights on testing her resolve.

“May I please see your credentials, @savinglambs?”

[savinglambs]

"Of course..."

Clarice pulled her credentials from her pocket, flipping open the small, leather folder for him, moving closer to the glass.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Her hand though, was unwavering as she held it out in front of her, like a shield.

When she heard the drawn out "clo-ser" from Dr. Lecter, she took the last step, winding up just in front of the glass. As close as she dared to get, but defying Dr. Chilton's orders all the same. She made her own decisions, and if to get Dr. Lecter to trust her, she'd gladly break some rules.

[serialgourmet]

“Closer...” Hannibal beckoned, a spider to her proverbial fly.

He drank in her fear and savored it as she took another timid step forward.

He glanced at her credentials and frowned.

“That expires in one week. You’re not real FBI, are you?”

There was a sickly sweet overtone in his voice which made his feigned politeness all the more horrifying—Clarice Starling knew good and well what Hannibal Lecter was capable of.

Even behind a wall of impenetrable glass, there was something entirely disconcerting about Dr. Lecter.

[savinglambs]

Clarice tucked her credentials away, giving him a slightly sheepish look.

"I'm still in training, at the academy."

Her eyes moved away from him, taking in the small, confined cell that was Hannibal's world. There were several drawings on his walls, done with what looked to be charcoal, the detail of each one was astounding and breathtaking.

When her eyes landed back on Hannibal, she offered a small smile. Barely a lift of her lips. Honesty was the only thing that would do.

[serialgourmet]

The look on his face was one of sheer astonishment.

“Jack Crawford sent a trainee...to me??”

Hannibal shook his head as he paced the length of the cell. When he turned back, his bright blue eyes cut through her like a sharpened blade. He never seemed to blink. His gaze was unsettling.

[savinglambs]

"Yes, sir. I'm a student, at the academy. I'm here to learn from you."

Clarice kept her eyes on him.

"Maybe you can decide, Dr. Lecter, if I'm qualified enough to do just that."

It was the truth, but coated in a little bit of honey. Maybe he'd cooperate if she let him see that this was important to her.

[serialgourmet]

“Hmm...that is rather slippery of you, Agent Starling.”

Hannibal forced a smile. The woman was cunning. Now was the time to make her increasingly uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

“Multiple Miggs hissed something at you earlier...what did he say?”

Lecter’s voice, suddenly so unfathomably innocent in tone; a clear betrayal of the monster deep within.

He looked at Clarice, his blue eyes unwavering.

It was now or never...

[savinglambs]

Clarice paused. It wasn't something she had wanted to repeat. Squaring her shoulders, she looked Hannibal in the eye, her chin lifting.

"He said... I can smell your cunt."

Standing tall, and almost proud, her gaze remained unwavering. Not even a blush colored her cheeks. It hadn't bothered her. Not really. After all, he was behind bars in a mental institution.

Her intuition told her that Hannibal was playing a game. Which one... she wasn't sure.

[serialgourmet]

“I see...” Dr. Lecter replied, crippling her as he deliberately arched his sleek head back and inhaled deeply.

“I myself cannot. You use Evyan skin cream. Sometimes you wear L’air du Temps....but not today....”

Another wink at Starling. She was coming unglued.

So be it.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was startled into silence for a minute. Her lips parting ever so slightly.

Then her eyes glanced off to the side, taking in the charcoal and parchment drawings that adorned Hannibal's walls.

"Did you do all those drawings, Dr. Lecter?"

Her voice was quiet, respectful.

[serialgourmet]

A flicker of a smile at her shrewd observation. Then, Lecter’s sarcasm drove in as sharp as a knife.

“Do you think I called in a decorator?”

He glanced at the drawing that she had gazed at only moments before.

“That is the Duomo, as seen from the Belvedere. Do you know Florence?”

Blue eyes searched her face, hopeful for some sort of connection. He could tell, however, that her answer was a resounding no.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was taken aback by his rude reply. Something she'd never expected to hear from a man of his... stature.

The barb didn't even flicker across her face.

Instead, she gave him the smallest, softest smile. Her voice quiet as she looked at him once more, her blue eyes rivaling his.

"All that detail from memory, Doctor?"

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[serialgourmet]

“Good morning...”

It caught the young woman off-guard with good reason; Hannibal Lecter had already been expecting her.

The doctor’s speaking voice was a harsh whisper, strained from years of self-imposed silence. But now, Dr. Lecter was speaking, and to her.

“You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, aren’t you?” Hannibal said with a wink and a smile.

Frederick Chilton had most certainly warned Clarice not to touch or approach the glass, so Dr. Hannibal Lecter set his sights on testing her resolve.

“May I please see your credentials, @savinglambs?”

[savinglambs]

"Of course..."

Clarice pulled her credentials from her pocket, flipping open the small, leather folder for him, moving closer to the glass.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Her hand though, was unwavering as she held it out in front of her, like a shield.

When she heard the drawn out "clo-ser" from Dr. Lecter, she took the last step, winding up just in front of the glass. As close as she dared to get, but defying Dr. Chilton's orders all the same. She made her own decisions, and if to get Dr. Lecter to trust her, she'd gladly break some rules.

[serialgourmet]

“Closer...” Hannibal beckoned, a spider to her proverbial fly.

He drank in her fear and savored it as she took another timid step forward.

He glanced at her credentials and frowned.

“That expires in one week. You’re not real FBI, are you?”

There was a sickly sweet overtone in his voice which made his feigned politeness all the more horrifying—Clarice Starling knew good and well what Hannibal Lecter was capable of.

Even behind a wall of impenetrable glass, there was something entirely disconcerting about Dr. Lecter.

[savinglambs]

Clarice tucked her credentials away, giving him a slightly sheepish look.

"I'm still in training, at the academy."

Her eyes moved away from him, taking in the small, confined cell that was Hannibal's world. There were several drawings on his walls, done with what looked to be charcoal, the detail of each one was astounding and breathtaking.

When her eyes landed back on Hannibal, she offered a small smile. Barely a lift of her lips. Honesty was the only thing that would do.

[serialgourmet]

The look on his face was one of sheer astonishment.

“Jack Crawford sent a trainee...to me??”

Hannibal shook his head as he paced the length of the cell. When he turned back, his bright blue eyes cut through her like a sharpened blade. He never seemed to blink. His gaze was unsettling.

[savinglambs]

"Yes, sir. I'm a student, at the academy. I'm here to learn from you."

Clarice kept her eyes on him.

"Maybe you can decide, Dr. Lecter, if I'm qualified enough to do just that."

It was the truth, but coated in a little bit of honey. Maybe he'd cooperate if she let him see that this was important to her.

[serialgourmet]

“Hmm...that is rather slippery of you, Agent Starling.”

Hannibal forced a smile. The woman was cunning. Now was the time to make her increasingly uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

“Multiple Miggs hissed something at you earlier...what did he say?”

Lecter’s voice, suddenly so unfathomably innocent in tone; a clear betrayal of the monster deep within.

He looked at Clarice, his blue eyes unwavering.

It was now or never...

[savinglambs]

Clarice paused. It wasn't something she had wanted to repeat. Squaring her shoulders, she looked Hannibal in the eye, her chin lifting.

"He said... I can smell your cunt."

Standing tall, and almost proud, her gaze remained unwavering. Not even a blush colored her cheeks. It hadn't bothered her. Not really. After all, he was behind bars in a mental institution.

Her intuition told her that Hannibal was playing a game. Which one... she wasn't sure.

[serialgourmet]

“I see...” Dr. Lecter replied, crippling her as he deliberately arched his sleek head back and inhaled deeply.

“I myself cannot. You use Evyan skin cream. Sometimes you wear L’air du Temps....but not today....”

Another wink at Starling. She was coming unglued.

So be it.

[savinglambs]

Clarice was startled into silence for a minute. Her lips parting ever so slightly.

Then her eyes glanced off to the side, taking in the charcoal and parchment drawings that adorned Hannibal's walls.

"Did you do all those drawings, Dr. Lecter?"

Her voice was quiet, respectful.

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[serialgourmet]

“Good morning...”

It caught the young woman off-guard with good reason; Hannibal Lecter had already been expecting her.

The doctor’s speaking voice was a harsh whisper, strained from years of self-imposed silence. But now, Dr. Lecter was speaking, and to her.

“You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, aren’t you?” Hannibal said with a wink and a smile.

Frederick Chilton had most certainly warned Clarice not to touch or approach the glass, so Dr. Hannibal Lecter set his sights on testing her resolve.

“May I please see your credentials, @savinglambs?”

[savinglambs]

"Of course..."

Clarice pulled her credentials from her pocket, flipping open the small, leather folder for him, moving closer to the glass.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Her hand though, was unwavering as she held it out in front of her, like a shield.

When she heard the drawn out "clo-ser" from Dr. Lecter, she took the last step, winding up just in front of the glass. As close as she dared to get, but defying Dr. Chilton's orders all the same. She made her own decisions, and if to get Dr. Lecter to trust her, she'd gladly break some rules.

[serialgourmet]

“Closer...” Hannibal beckoned, a spider to her proverbial fly.

He drank in her fear and savored it as she took another timid step forward.

He glanced at her credentials and frowned.

“That expires in one week. You’re not real FBI, are you?”

There was a sickly sweet overtone in his voice which made his feigned politeness all the more horrifying—Clarice Starling knew good and well what Hannibal Lecter was capable of.

Even behind a wall of impenetrable glass, there was something entirely disconcerting about Dr. Lecter.

[savinglambs]

Clarice tucked her credentials away, giving him a slightly sheepish look.

"I'm still in training, at the academy."

Her eyes moved away from him, taking in the small, confined cell that was Hannibal's world. There were several drawings on his walls, done with what looked to be charcoal, the detail of each one was astounding and breathtaking.

When her eyes landed back on Hannibal, she offered a small smile. Barely a lift of her lips. Honesty was the only thing that would do.

[serialgourmet]

The look on his face was one of sheer astonishment.

“Jack Crawford sent a trainee...to me??”

Hannibal shook his head as he paced the length of the cell. When he turned back, his bright blue eyes cut through her like a sharpened blade. He never seemed to blink. His gaze was unsettling.

[savinglambs]

"Yes, sir. I'm a student, at the academy. I'm here to learn from you."

Clarice kept her eyes on him.

"Maybe you can decide, Dr. Lecter, if I'm qualified enough to do just that."

It was the truth, but coated in a little bit of honey. Maybe he'd cooperate if she let him see that this was important to her.

[serialgourmet]

“Hmm...that is rather slippery of you, Agent Starling.”

Hannibal forced a smile. The woman was cunning. Now was the time to make her increasingly uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

“Multiple Miggs hissed something at you earlier...what did he say?”

Lecter’s voice, suddenly so unfathomably innocent in tone; a clear betrayal of the monster deep within.

He looked at Clarice, his blue eyes unwavering.

It was now or never...

[savinglambs]

Clarice paused. It wasn't something she had wanted to repeat. Squaring her shoulders, she looked Hannibal in the eye, her chin lifting.

"He said... I can smell your cunt."

Standing tall, and almost proud, her gaze remained unwavering. Not even a blush colored her cheeks. It hadn't bothered her. Not really. After all, he was behind bars in a mental institution.

Her intuition told her that Hannibal was playing a game. Which one... she wasn't sure.

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[serialgourmet]

“Good morning...”

It caught the young woman off-guard with good reason; Hannibal Lecter had already been expecting her.

The doctor’s speaking voice was a harsh whisper, strained from years of self-imposed silence. But now, Dr. Lecter was speaking, and to her.

“You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, aren’t you?” Hannibal said with a wink and a smile.

Frederick Chilton had most certainly warned Clarice not to touch or approach the glass, so Dr. Hannibal Lecter set his sights on testing her resolve.

“May I please see your credentials, @savinglambs?”

[savinglambs]

"Of course..."

Clarice pulled her credentials from her pocket, flipping open the small, leather folder for him, moving closer to the glass.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Her hand though, was unwavering as she held it out in front of her, like a shield.

When she heard the drawn out "clo-ser" from Dr. Lecter, she took the last step, winding up just in front of the glass. As close as she dared to get, but defying Dr. Chilton's orders all the same. She made her own decisions, and if to get Dr. Lecter to trust her, she'd gladly break some rules.

[serialgourmet]

“Closer...” Hannibal beckoned, a spider to her proverbial fly.

He drank in her fear and savored it as she took another timid step forward.

He glanced at her credentials and frowned.

“That expires in one week. You’re not real FBI, are you?”

There was a sickly sweet overtone in his voice which made his feigned politeness all the more horrifying—Clarice Starling knew good and well what Hannibal Lecter was capable of.

Even behind a wall of impenetrable glass, there was something entirely disconcerting about Dr. Lecter.

[savinglambs]

Clarice tucked her credentials away, giving him a slightly sheepish look.

"I'm still in training, at the academy."

Her eyes moved away from him, taking in the small, confined cell that was Hannibal's world. There were several drawings on his walls, done with what looked to be charcoal, the detail of each one was astounding and breathtaking.

When her eyes landed back on Hannibal, she offered a small smile. Barely a lift of her lips. Honesty was the only thing that would do.

[serialgourmet]

The look on his face was one of sheer astonishment.

“Jack Crawford sent a trainee...to me??”

Hannibal shook his head as he paced the length of the cell. When he turned back, his bright blue eyes cut through her like a sharpened blade. He never seemed to blink. His gaze was unsettling.

[savinglambs]

"Yes, sir. I'm a student, at the academy. I'm here to learn from you."

Clarice kept her eyes on him.

"Maybe you can decide, Dr. Lecter, if I'm qualified enough to do just that."

It was the truth, but coated in a little bit of honey. Maybe he'd cooperate if she let him see that this was important to her.

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[serialgourmet]

“Good morning...”

It caught the young woman off-guard with good reason; Hannibal Lecter had already been expecting her.

The doctor’s speaking voice was a harsh whisper, strained from years of self-imposed silence. But now, Dr. Lecter was speaking, and to her.

“You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, aren’t you?” Hannibal said with a wink and a smile.

Frederick Chilton had most certainly warned Clarice not to touch or approach the glass, so Dr. Hannibal Lecter set his sights on testing her resolve.

“May I please see your credentials, @savinglambs?”

[savinglambs]

"Of course..."

Clarice pulled her credentials from her pocket, flipping open the small, leather folder for him, moving closer to the glass.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Her hand though, was unwavering as she held it out in front of her, like a shield.

When she heard the drawn out "clo-ser" from Dr. Lecter, she took the last step, winding up just in front of the glass. As close as she dared to get, but defying Dr. Chilton's orders all the same. She made her own decisions, and if to get Dr. Lecter to trust her, she'd gladly break some rules.

[serialgourmet]

“Closer...” Hannibal beckoned, a spider to her proverbial fly.

He drank in her fear and savored it as she took another timid step forward.

He glanced at her credentials and frowned.

“That expires in one week. You’re not real FBI, are you?”

There was a sickly sweet overtone in his voice which made his feigned politeness all the more horrifying—Clarice Starling knew good and well what Hannibal Lecter was capable of.

Even behind a wall of impenetrable glass, there was something entirely disconcerting about Dr. Lecter.

[savinglambs]

Clarice tucked her credentials away, giving him a slightly sheepish look.

"I'm still in training, at the academy."

Her eyes moved away from him, taking in the small, confined cell that was Hannibal's world. There were several drawings on his walls, done with what looked to be charcoal, the detail of each one was astounding and breathtaking.

When her eyes landed back on Hannibal, she offered a small smile. Barely a lift of her lips. Honesty was the only thing that would do.

[serialgourmet]

Back it up, @savinglambs 🤣🍷

[savinglambs]

Haha!! I love it!

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[serialgourmet]

“Good morning...”

It caught the young woman off-guard with good reason; Hannibal Lecter had already been expecting her.

The doctor’s speaking voice was a harsh whisper, strained from years of self-imposed silence. But now, Dr. Lecter was speaking, and to her.

“You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, aren’t you?” Hannibal said with a wink and a smile.

Frederick Chilton had most certainly warned Clarice not to touch or approach the glass, so Dr. Hannibal Lecter set his sights on testing her resolve.

“May I please see your credentials, @savinglambs?”

[savinglambs]

"Of course..."

Clarice pulled her credentials from her pocket, flipping open the small, leather folder for him, moving closer to the glass.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Her hand though, was unwavering as she held it out in front of her, like a shield.

When she heard the drawn out "clo-ser" from Dr. Lecter, she took the last step, winding up just in front of the glass. As close as she dared to get, but defying Dr. Chilton's orders all the same. She made her own decisions, and if to get Dr. Lecter to trust her, she'd gladly break some rules.

[serialgourmet]

The corridor before @savinglambs was dimly-lit and altogether imposing. From the low drone of the boiler to the pronounced clang of the metal door as it opened to allow her entry, all of it seemed to put her senses on edge.

This is the end of the road. A place in which hope has long died. Damp, with no windows. The stale air smelling of bleach and urine. The deranged take notice of the young woman as the heels of her shoes announce her arrival to all.

She’s bold, this one.

From the confines of his cell, Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands solemnly in wait. He can estimate by the click of her heels her height and weight. He can smell the scent of her perfume and it intrigues him. The woman has taste.

Time will tell if she truly has courage...

[savinglambs]

Clarice walked slowly down the corridor. Alone. Her head was held high and she kept her eyes on the cells to her left. A man on a cell whispered something vulgar to her, causing her to swallow and look away.

Eyeing the folding chair ahead, she glanced to the left once more. There. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, standing tall and proud. A slight smile curling his lips upwards in a... friendly? curious... smile.

Her heart hammered. Her palms were damp, her fingers slipping on the briefcase handle. She stopped beside the chair, giving a slight nod. Now, to see where and how things went.

[savinglambs]

@serialgourmet