Dr. Hannibal Lecter had experienced quite his fill of confinement during his lifetime. Eight years in a maximum security prison, and countless more trapped in the dreary hours of psychiatric practice, seated on a comfortable armchair and listening to the dull drabble of his many patients, whining on about various petty troubles. There had been a few exceptions to the norm from which he had derived some enjoyment, of course. Raspail, for example. Those he could toy with, twist their minds into self-destructive shapes he delighted in watching tear themselves apart.
There had been women, too. The few female patients with enough class and good looks for him to notice. Patients that long after he had dismissed them from his office, he continued to pursue. Doctor/patient relationships that lasted a few dinner dates and one or two nights, depending on how the experience had gone.
Physical pleasure had never been high up on Dr. Lecter's priority list, a release of tension more than anything else. The nagging habits of women that wanted him to stay, "cuddle", God knows how many messages left on his answering machine the morning after.
Of course, his stint in prison and fall from public grace had interrupted his so smoothly groomed lifestyle. An inconvenient but not upsetting bump in the road, as it were. Most things did not upset Dr. Lecter. Most things didn't affect Dr. Lecter emotionally at all, to the point one would wonder if the man possessed any emotional range whatsoever. During his time in the small cell in the basement of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Dr. Lecter had much time to think.
His mind palace entertained him for years, the memories and images, scents and sounds trapped there keeping his senses amused. But eventually; the hours, moments, days ticked away, the memories no longer maintained the glitz they once had, and Dr. Lecter found himself longing for freedom one more. Then came the deal with Chilton, his transfer to Tennessee, and his final; glorious escape. How he had laughed once he had driven away in the ambulance, a near boyish glee coursing through his veins with the wild, giddy sensation that came with breaking a rule. In this case, the rule being his nine consecutive life sentences in the dungeon, the dreary letters from second-rate psychologists that flooded his mailbox near every day. Breaking the rule that had confined him for very nearly ten years was enough to pull joy from the doctors frozen heart.
But now... we jump to today, out of the past. Years after the escape, after the police had all but given up. Dr. Lecter had once again started up a psychiatric practice, his old love affair with the fine art of manipulation rekindled. He was stationed not in Baltimore any longer, but Santa Monica, California, under the well-tended alias of Dr. Gabriel Huntington. Dr. Lecter had always had a fondness for the ocean, the warm breezes and long beaches, and he found Santa Monica was perfect for him. He had secured a townhouse on a year's lease, furnished it modestly; but comfortably and to his liking, and had begun his practise within a week of settling in. He was soon flooded with appointments.
The word had traveled quickly about the new shrink in town, among the populace that spoke of such things. It didn't hurt that Hannibal had always been a charming, handsome man, smooth and polite with clients. With his tall stature, broad shoulders and trim physique, dark slicked hair and piercing maroon eyes, he drew the attention of many of his patients both male and female; all of whom's advances he politely declined. But now, we jump once more to the present hour, of the present day. Dr. Lecter is in captivity once more... and shopping.
Most days, Hannibal enjoyed shopping. To be able to while away the hours picking and choosing among items, to relax on the sunny streets with a cold drink whenever he pleased and enjoy the breeze from the sea. Not today. After being bumped and jostled for the umpteenth time, standing in the crowded Costco checkout line, Dr. Lecter checked his watch once more. He had two hours until his next appointment. He wanted to be home, have his groceries put away, and have a chance to change before he received his patient. At his current paced, he would be cutting it too close for his liking.
The white cotton shirt that the Doctor was currently wearing was damp with sweat from the humid day, the scent of overheated bodies and frustration lingering in the air. He loathed this store. Unfortunately, they were the only one's who carried the heavy, specific kind of letter paper he liked in bulk. The moment another stationary store started selling the paper, he would never set foot in this cattle chute again. And that was a promise anyone could take to the bank.
Across the store, another man was sharing Dr. Lecter's opinion on Costco, but going about it in a much louder way. Benjamin Stephens was a well-built, tall man, maybe an inch shorter than Hannibal, with striking green eyes and sandy, brownish blonde hair. He was well-muscled for being in his late thirties, tanned, and was currently barely withholding himself from throttling the pipsqueak behind the counter who was lazily working at the broken cash register like it was the last thing on Earth he wanted to do.
"Come on, man. I got places to be. Can't ya just count the damn change yourself?" He demanded, the heat only furthering his frustration. The kid shrugged.
"Sure, yeah. I guess." Ben fumed silently while the scrawny boy took forever counting the change, snatching it back and storming off with the box of chips, frozen pizza, and a case of Pepsi. Not exactly food of champions, but it worked for him. Ever since his ex-girlfriend Lisa had left, claiming "He hadn't paid her enough attention". The quality of the food at his place had plummeted. This heat was kicking his ass, he was fed up with the idiots who worked at this fucking excuse for a store, his shoulders hurt from his regular weight lifting the night before, and he was tired. He hadn't been sleeping very well, since he... well, he hadn't been sleeping well for a long time. The nightmares had gotten nearly worse than he could bear, lately. He'd wake up screaming himself hoarse, covered in a cold sweat, chest heaving and eyes wild.
Ben was tired of having to stumble to the bathroom at 2am, his hands shaking in panic while he fumbled to find his sleeping pills and down one, only to collapse back into bed and slip into the drug-induced rest they brought him for the remainder of the night. Tired enough he had finally cracked and taken up his good friend Jacob's suggestion of a shrink. He didn't want to go and pay some crazy pile of cash to have some flaky old guy stare at him for an hour and listen to him talk about his mother, only to give him some more pills to take and send him on his way. Yeah. No thanks. But by this time, he was at his wits end. So he had called the guy Jacob had suggested, booking an appointment for later today. The voice on the phone had been surprisingly nice to listen to, masculine and slightly accented. European, he sounded. His luck and he'd get some Brit who talked too fast and didn't listen.
After seemingly hours of waiting, a good twenty minutes in real-time, Hannibal had finally paid for his single package - the single package that had taken over an hour to purchase - and strode out with the box under his arm and his mood foul. The heat wasn't helping, nor the humidity, or the fact that rain clouds were beginning to form and it looked like a storm was coming. Wonderful. Walking with determination across the parking lot towards the jet-black Jaguar he owned, his gaze dropped to his pocket as his hand fumbled for his keys, a silent curse leaving his lips when he dropped them. Bending to retrieve them, annoyance growing by the second, the string of curses never ceased from Hannibal's mouth.
Ben walked briskly towards the beat up blue and white pickup he owned, parked in odd contrast next to the sleek Jaguar. He too, was digging in his pocket for his keys and did not see Hannibal as the doctor suddenly straightened up from his knelt position between the two cars, smack in Ben's walking path.
"Jesus Chr-!" was all that had time to escape Ben's mouth before the two men collided, papers and chips bags flying everywhere, a can of Pepsi hitting the pavement and exploding, sending the fizzy liquid spraying all over both Dr. Lecter and Benjamin. That was the final straw for Ben, who, unlike Hannibal, was not as efficient at keeping his emotions in check.
"Fucking hell, man. Really? Gotta tie your goddamn shoe here?" He hissed, looking down at his Pepsi-splattered shirt and khaki shorts before glaring at Hannibal, who had collected a few of the salvageable papers from the pavement. The tingle of disgust that he felt whenever confronted with rudeness sang along his skin, and Dr. Lecter raised his maroon gaze to Ben's, his expression cool, yet disdainful.
The hair raised on the back of Ben's neck at the intensity of the other man's- was that red?! Who the fuck had red eyes? Swallowing hard, a little of his bravado vanishing, he stood firm, his jaw set and eyes angry.
Hannibal spoke coolly, though disdain echoed in every word that left his lips.
"I was retrieving my keys, thank you kindly. And I believe you were the one who ran into me." The doctor spoke softly, once again clutching the box of papers under his arm. The doctor's attention was captured by the man's eyes, their shining emerald green a stark contrast to the well-tanned skin on his face, before he snapped back to reality. Noticing someone's eye color at a time like this... really, Hannibal. Absurd. He noticed how the sandy-haired man flinched slightly once their gazes locked, and smirked internally, knowing that he had this man's fear of the unknown on his side. Maroon eyes, eyes he had inherited from his mother, were extremely uncommon. And people noticed them. Feared them. He didn't mind at all, especially at a time like this.
"I don't give a rat's ass what you were doing. It's whatever. Have a nice fucking day." Ben fumed at how the man remained completely calm, where most would have been in his face and matching his fury with their own. The completely unperturbed exterior of the man whom had run into him unnerved him, and put him more on edge than he had already been. He whirled and stormed off to his truck, starting the engine and revving it much louder than he needed before pulling out and peeling away. Casting a glance at the clock, Ben swore out loud. The hold-up at the line in Costco and the argument with the guy in the parking lot was going to make him late for the appointment with the shrink. He still needed to go home, unpack his shit and change, and then drive to the guy's place, a good twenty minute drive away.
"Shoulda stayed in bed...' he grumbled to himself as he sped towards home.
Shaking his head once more in memory of the fiasco at the store, Dr. Lecter hurriedly finished buttoning his navy button-down, tucking it into his slacks, once again glancing at his watch. The appointment was scheduled to start in ten minutes, but due to the lag at the store and the unnecessary argument in the parking lot with whoever the oaf had been, he had gotten home later than he had planned. Now, as he fixed his tie and swept his eyes over the chair and couch where his patient would be seated, some of the afternoon's stress left him. After this session, maybe he would take a walk down to the pier, stroll along the beach. Buy himself supper in one of the cities many seaside cafes, perhaps. The more Hannibal thought about after the appointment, the better he felt. Taking his seat in the chair, his gaze flicked up to the clock, his nose wrinkling slightly as he realized his patient was already 3 minutes late. Tardiness was a pet peeve of Dr. Lecter's, especially on a day where he had already had his fill of being aggravated. A soft sigh left his lips as he folded his hands together over his stomach and settled in to wait.
A little over two blocks away, Ben Stephens was zipping towards the doctor's townhouse, well over the speed limit and cursing every 30 seconds. The longer he had to stew the angrier he got, thinking of that stuck-up prick in the parking lot.
"Goddamn asshole. Couldn't just get out of the damn way or nothin', had to fuckin' pop up right in front of me..." A steady stream of grumbles and curses were spat in the car before he finally pulled up at the address he had been given, fixing his tie as he got out. This... was dressing up, for him. With an untucked, plain white dress shirt and a red silk tie, along with dark denim jeans, Ben felt uncomfortably formal. He wasn't used to this "dressing up for people" business, and didn't like it. But, apparently this guy was high end and fancy. Explained why he was expensive as fuck. Running his hand through his unruly hair in a vain attempt to smooth it, he jogged up the steps to the door of the elegant house and rang the doorbell, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, hands in his pockets.
Hannibal's head came up at the sound of the doorbell and he rose in a moment, walking not rushed, not leisurely, but at a consistent pace towards the door, pulling it open as he reached it. Ben started talking before the door had fully opened, before he could see the man in front of him.
"Sorry I'm late, dude. Got held up at Costco, some asshole was..." Ben's eyes met Hannibal's and recognition flashed, the end of his sentence dying on his lips. Without missing a beat, Dr. Lecter replied coolly, his smile polite.
"That's Doctor Asshole to you, my friend. You're twenty minutes late."