The man settled into his seat as the concert began. A local group of young thespians were putting on a talent show of sorts, and the advertisement had piqued the doctor's interest. As the curtain rose, the doctor Hannibal Lecter smiled. He suffered through the mediocre performances of the first few acts with great difficulty. He was just wondering which wine to drink while dining on the cellist that had just finished butchering one of Bach's suites when the next act came on stage.
She wore a modest white dress that clung closely to her slender frame until it reached her waist, where it flowed freely to the floor. Her dark, straight hair flowed loosely to her shoulders, and he thought in passing that the texture didn't suit her. Her appearance intrigued him, and he was telling himself that she was too scrawny to make a good meal out of when she opened her mouth to sing.
He sat up straighter in his seat, attentive. She was quite talented. 'Of course,' he mused. 'She could use a few vocal lessons, but she has raw talent, and that's hard to come by.' She continued to sing, the initial softness of her voice melting away with every word she sang. He checked the program that he had taken absently on his way in. "Lullaby—Dahlia Jehan." He read aloud. She had a strange beauty about her—not one of physical beauty, (while she was pretty, she wasn't the most stunning that he'd seen) But an aura of kindness, a naivety that gave her a beauty all her own. "Like a siren from The Odyssey." The psychiatrist chuckled darkly at his joke. '
Her song ended and the auditorium erupted into applause. It didn't seem long until the performance ended, and Dr. Lecter stood and went to the performers, who were in the main hall, talking to the audience. He entered the room just as a classmate (he assumed, she struck him as the type to still be in school) was asking the girl a question.
"Dahlia, are you really going to a police academy?"
She smiled. "Chelsea, I told you, I'm just gonna be there full time. I'm not going away forever."
The younger girl looked up at her with sad eyes. "But who will help me with my trigonometry homework?"
Her laugh was light. "I'll still have my phone on me, you can always call. And," Here she lowered her voice. "You can just fax me a copy of your homework, I'll work it out, send it back, and you can copy, all right?" This earned a hug from the student.
Hannibal smiled. Taking the opportunity to approach her, he smiled charmingly, already knowing just what to say.
Dahlia looked up from the embrace of her friend to see an older man walk up. 'No,' she corrected herself. 'It's his eyes that look old, wise beyond their years.' He smiled and she was struck by how handsome he was.
"I loved your performance, miss…?" He asked, extending his hand.
"Um, thank you…Dahlia Jehan. And you are?" she took his hand and he brought it to his lips.
"Just call me Dr. Lecter. Everyone else does. Has anyone told you what an enchanting voice you have?"
She let out a nervous laugh. "You'd be the first. I didn't think I was all that good, though…"
"Quite the contrary, my dear, you were spectacular. You really shouldn't be so hard on yourself."
She felt her face heat up. He still hadn't let go of her hand. "T-thank you, Dr. Lecter."
His smile widened, showing off small, white teeth. "I'm afraid I must go, but I'm sure we'll meet again. Until then, Miss Jehan, and may you have a safe way home." He kissed her hand once more and left, almost unnoticeable to the crowd standing in the theater's foyer.
"Dude, was that doctor guy just hitting on you?" Chelsea asked.
"I-I don't know…" Dahlia shook her head, attempting to clear it. "But I gotta get home. See you later, guys."
Hannibal watched her leave from a safe distance across the street. He didn't quite know why this girl intrigued him so, but he was sure it would pass just as his infatuation with Clarice Starling had. He just had to let it run its course. She got on a bicycle nearby, (the skirt of the dress was long enough to allow bike riding without any embarrassing incidents) and rode off, humming to herself.
He allowed himself a brief smile. 'Little siren, indeed…' he mused. As she rode, he decided to follow her, just to see what sort of residence she called home. 'Besides,' He told himself. 'I want to see what this "Police academy" business is about.' His walking was much slower than her bike, but he tracked her efficiently to a small apartment several blocks away. By the time he got to the ground-floor flat, she was on the phone. Her open window allowed him to listen in with ease.
"Mom, I told you. I need to do this. It's my dream. -Well, you need money to go to New York, Mom, and you didn't approve of that dream, either! I don't care how much you hate Broadway! -Mom, you're not gonna ruin this. I've finally found something I'm good at. -I like this, do I need any other reason? -I don't care. I'm going and that's final. I'm twenty-three years old, Mom; I'm old enough to make my own decisions! -I don't care! If you're going to be that way, I'm not going to come home!" She hung up the phone, throwing it on the bed with a frustrated cry. "I wish she'd just fuckin' listen to me!" She growled. She sat on the bed and put her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Hannibal felt a twinge in his chest area, but blamed it on that night's dinner.
Suddenly, she stood, scrubbing the tears from her face. "Stop it, Dahlia." She said aloud. "This is why you're leaving. You need to man up if you want to be a successful detective, remember? Just pack and forget all about it." Now determined, she went to pack a half-full suitcase resting on her bed."
The man outside mulled over this new information. "A detective, hmm? Very interesting…" he muttered. He watched as she finished packing and went to the nearest bus stop, luckily catching a bus just before it left. He stood outside for a few moments longer, deep in thought. At last, he smiled, knowing his plan.
"Well, my little siren," He said turning to leave. "I'll see you around."