hannibal gazes down at the man on the floor, clearly dead, several stab wounds to his abdomen bleeding onto the floor of hannibal's dining room. brow quirks at the mess, the body, before he looks expectantly up towards debbie. the knife she holds in her hand is dripping red, her hand not much cleaner. there's a look in her eyes that hannibal has seen several times before. the man takes a breath, setting down the three plates he had previously meant to serve in favor of grabbing a towel, taking the knife sticky with blood away from her gently before beginning to clean the same stuff from her skin. 'darling,' hannibal playfully scolds, cleaning off her fingers. 'could this have not waited until after dessert?' @murderlite.













