Hannibal smiled, satisfied.

He flipped the second omelet from the pan into a glass container and sealed the lid tightly. Now all he needed was some fresh orange juice, and to take the warm-smelling loaves out of the oven.
Breakfast with Will was becoming a routine, and one that Hannibal enjoyed thoroughly. He would drive to Will's house several times a week now, bearing a small basket of breakfast foods and a thermos of coffee for them to share.
The expensive espresso machine on the counter whirred to a finish. The coffee was ready. Hannibal let it steam gently for a minute while he opened the oven and pulled out a baking tray with two small loaves of French bread on it. Will seemed to prefer simple foods, so Hannibal was very careful not to overwhelm him with some of his more intricate culinary creations. Comfortability was the key here, not intimidation.

Hannibal packed the items and made ready to leave. He had begun scheduling appointments slightly later in the day so that he might have the freedom to linger over breakfast with Will. There was much to be learned at such an early hour, when Will's defenses were not quite up yet and he was more willing to share.

Locking the front door behind him, Hannibal stepped out into the crisp Baltimore air and headed for his Bentley.

-And almost bumped headlong into Franklyn Froideveaux.

"Dr. Lecter!"

The extreme depths of Hannibal's maroon eyes swarmed, but Franklyn couldn't see that. Most likely no one human could.

"I was about to knock," chattered Franklyn breathlessly, "how funny that you were just coming out, our minds must be linked!"

Hannibal doubted that very much.

"I brought you something very special," Franklyn pushed, when Hannibal still didn't speak. "I found it while I was away in New York and just had to share it with someone who would appreciate it." He pulled forth, with some ceremony, a small basket of cheeses. The neediness practically poured off him.

Hannibal then smiled freely, comfortable in the knowledge that if his face hadn't betrayed his inner irritation to Franklyn yet then it wasn't likely to anytime soon.

"Franklyn," Hannibal began, "Why are you here?"

Franklyn's face fell slightly.

"Well, I thought you might like this-"

"Franklyn, this is my home," Hannibal pointed out, his eyes boring into Franklyn's. "You being here is in violation of our professional relationship." He thought of Will, waiting for him in the semi-darkness of his house and the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

Franklyn was undaunted, however.

"I know my appointment isn't till later, but this doesn't have to be about my therapy. Can't this just be about two people learning about each other?" His face fell slightly. "Tobias won't share this with me, he says it's not his thing."

"Franklyn, nothing is more important than your therapy."

Franklyn looked put out. However he noticed the hamper on Hannibal's arm then and brightened.

"If you haven't eaten yet I could keep you company? We could add my cheese to whatever you have in there-"

Hannibal sighed gently through his nose, eyes flicking under his lids. Franklyn's voice trailed off.

"I have a meeting with a . . . colleague . . . in fact," he said, "I am running late to meet him."

"'Him'?" Franklyn repeated, his mouth turning downwards.

Hannibal actually smiled then, and put his hand on Franklyn's shoulder, steering him towards the driveway.

"Franklyn, I will see you later, at which time you shall have my undivided attention. For now, however, I must say goodbye."

Hannibal got into his Bentley and, without bothering to watch Franklyn, left the house in a swirl of gravel. He didn't need to worry about Franklyn, the house was alarmed and fortified.

His mind was filled with the prospect of seeing Will, and before he was a mile down the road Franklyn had been forgotten.

Franklyn sat in his car for a long time after Dr. Lecter had left. He hesitantly put his hand over the spot on his shoulder where Dr. Lecter had touched him.

His mind struggled with the encounter. Part of him was vaguely thrilled at the doctor's touch, yet a very small, almost unknowable corner of his mind screamed in terror without ceasing. Dr. Lecter's grip had been . . . horrifyingly strong. Franklyn tried to put his mind at ease by telling himself that Dr. Lecter probably just exercised a lot.

He put the keys in the ignition then and began to drive off, uncomfortable with the part of himself that didn't believe his own rationalization.