"Would you ever say to me, stop? If you loved me, you'd stop?"
"Stop what?"
"What?"
"Did I stutter?"
"What do you mean?"
"Listen, cannibal, I said STOP WHAT?"
"Um… I don't know."
"Then why'd you ask?"
"Rhetorical question?"
"Some genius."
"Do over?"
"K."
"Would you ever say to me, stop? If you… umm. Shit."
"Right. Try again."
"Clarice, this isn't working."
"You got that right."
"Stop it."
"Stop what?"
"I don't do well under pressure, Clarice. Just give me a moment, would you?"
"Take your time, killer."
Hannibal walked away to think it over, leaving Clarice's hair locked in the fridge. To pass the time, she picked up a kitchen knife and cleaned her nails.
"OK, I got it."
"Shoot."
"OK, here's the thing…"
He looked away, freaked out at how badly this was going.
"I love you, Clarice. I always have. If you ask me to stop killing, I will. If you ask me to stop BBQing the rude, I will."
"And?"
"And if you ask me to take you with me, I will."
"Why would I do that?"
"Um… because you love me, too."
"What the hell? Dude…. I'm GAY."