"Clarice" his voice whispered, exactly the way it used to, haunting the female's every thought. "It's time to wake up." the same voice said as her eyes flickered open slowly. Clarice, the former FBI agent, knew the man who stood infront of her, the man who's eyes illuminated rooms, yet distinguished them just as quickly. The man who was missing a hand, that was now just a stump, his name, Hannibal, Hannibal Lecter, or as to the Baltimore mental institution used to call him, along with the rest of the world, "Hannibal the Cannibal."
"D-Dr Lecter?" Clarice asked, her Western Virginian accent strong.
"Now, now, Clarice, you can call me Hannibal." he grinned, his voice calm and soothing as he reached out to gently stroke her face.
She shivered at him as he said his name, Hannibal. He retracted his hand, carefully, tilting his head as he asked. "What's wrong with my name?" A curious, yet interested looking brewing on his face, much alike when he was learning of Clarice's life via their games of "Quid Pro Quo".
Clarice was still sleepy, though that didn't cease her worrying, her eyes beamed around his, they caught awkwardly for a moment before she broke the contact, like before, like anyone would with Hannibal. "I-I can't say with associating it with..." she broke off, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Though the smile was already spread across his face.
"Cannibalism." he said, trailing off from Clarice's previous confession. His old, piercing blue eyes watching her expression as he said the dreaded word. Cannibalism, the practice of eating the flesh of your own kind. Hannibal wasn't always a Cannibal, it started off as an act of survival then it... became a habit, the strange man had began to develop a taste for it.
His favorite being the back of course, the tender strips of meat that made his mouth simply water, as discovered by a young detective Will Graham, the man to catch the 'crazed' Doctor.
"Yes, Dr Lecter, Cannibalism." she said coldly, trying not to show her fear, she knew not only did the Cannibal like to feast on flesh, but fear aswell. Starling leaned forward from her chair, Hannibal moving back, as though he was being polite, as to be expected, he wouldn't won't to be rude, Dr Lecter didn't like rude people, what kind of person would he be if he was to become a hypocrite?
Clarice gaze caught onto the Dr's stumped hand, the memories flooding back to her, that night, the day she rescued the Psychotic Doctor, the day he was almost the victim of his patient, Mason Verger, the day that Clarice took a bullet to the chest, the night Lecter had removed the bullet from Clarice, cared for her and dressed her up nice and fancy. The night she was high on morphine and the night she witnessed her boss eating his own brain and finally, the night Hannibal made a choice.
The choice, his hand or Clarice's.
"D-Dr Lecter, may I ask a question?" she asked, the fear in her voice, feeding Hannibal's happiness in this situation. He replied serenely, "Of course, Clarice, proceed."
Clarice looked down, trying not to make unwanted eye contact again. "Why'd you cut of your hand, 'stead of mine?" she inquired, the smile on his face, faded.
"Do you remember when I asked you, if you'd ever say, Stop. If you loved me, you'd stop?" he requested. Clarice nodded quickly, not seeing what that had to do with her question, but with a Psychotic Doctor in her house, she could hardly contest.
"Now, now Clarice, give me an answer, nodding is not acceptable, I consider it... rude." his voice now slightly malevolent. "Yes, Dr Lecter, yes I remember." Clarice stated, a little startled by the sudden malevolence. "Please, Hannibal." The Doctor added, his silky speech, making her cringe. "Hannibal." She bluntly responded. "Why are you here?" she quizzed, looking to his face, his features exactly the same they were in the last encounter, his hair, still thinning, his eyes still horrifying to look at, so deep and wise, yet evil and malicious. He began to tut, much alike how he did when they'd first met. "Now, Now, Clarice, Quid Pro Quo." he said, a smirk lining across his face as her expression of horror appeared.
"Dr Lect.." she broke off, changing her wording. "Hannibal" he grimaced the name. "I would prefer we didn't. You already know so much about me, what more could you possibly want to know?" The Cannibal stopped a moment, his eyes locked on the muscles around her mouth. "Clarice, there is plenty of information I am yet to know about you, you may not consider it important, but I do, it just depends on your... perspective." He put an empathsis on the word perspective as though it was meant to get to his old friend. That it did, Clarice turned away from his inspecting eyes, she could remember perfectly the conversation she and Lecter had had in Baltimore about perspectives. "B-but why?" Clarice stuttered.
Lecter ignored her question, his voice now stern. "Quid Pro Quo, Clarice, you ask a question, then I, do. Your question was "What more could you possible want to know?" I answered, now, Clarice, Quid Pro Quo, has the Lamb stopped screaming yet?" he asked, his perverted eyes filled with evil.
Clarice choked as he mentioned her lamb, the lamb she failed to save, the lamb that had been haunting her dreams ever since she was a little girl. Of all the mistakes in her life, telling Dr. Hannibal Lecter about her dream was in first place, followed closely by shooting a mother while he baby was strapped to her chest.
"N-no, Ha-Hannibal." She growled, his name in itself a task to say.
"Would you like them to stop, Clarice? I could help you, you could become.. my patient." he suggested, as though she might actually consider it. He was so wrong.