no offense, but i think you need professional help. / TESS SKSKSK
Hannibal smiles as he tightens the strap securing Tess's right forearm to the chair. He cinches it at a tension that will cause her discomfort but not serious injury, as long as she has the foresight to stop her incessant wriggling. It's human nature to test one's restraints, but like an unruly puppy, Tess has exceeded the bounds of reason and gnaws defiantly at the bars of her cage, to equally unproductive effect.
It's a shame, really, that they've come to this. For as gruff as she can be, Hannibal has come to enjoy the brief flashes he has been granted of Tess's company; if nothing else, she's proven to be quite a reliable distraction. Entertainment, he supposes, if he's going to be crude about it. He has no real interest in her beyond the superficial—the intrigue that clings to her is the same as that of a brightly colored moth. Something surprising and beautiful, a momentary curiosity that just as quickly overstays its welcome. Hannibal will keep Tess in his carefully crafted jar, will feed her sugar water and milkweed until he tires of the game and crushes her within the warm cradle of his palm. Until then, though, he looks forward to watching her throw herself against the glass.
She makes quite the picture already, her dark brunette hair mussed artlessly around her face. Small clumps of it cling to the sweat beading on her skin, and Hannibal reaches out to tuck a few stray strands behind her ear. She jerks away before he can fully manage it.
"Do you?" he asks, amusement thick in his voice. He picks up the syringe he had placed on the tray beside Tess's chair and checks the level, ensures the vial is free of air. "In that case, you'll be relieved to know I'm under the care of a very capable psychiatrist." Hannibal casts Tess a playful look, his lips tugging up into a smile. He can scent her excitement and agitation, her loathing a dense, bitter thing. Hardly any fear clings to her now, though Hannibal has not decided whether to admire or pity her for her bravery. He wonders whether she knows that he doesn't intend to kill her now or whether she has simply not grasped the severity of her situation.
"Are you familiar with Dr. Du Maurier? I can't praise her highly enough." He flicks the syringe and, satisfied, eyes Tess's arm for a suitable vein. "Perhaps you'll get to meet her one day." Despite Tess's struggling, Hannibal lines the needle up and slips it smoothly in. "This will only hurt for a moment," he says as he depresses the plunger. "There we go. That's a good girl; try not to fight it."
out there.