I stand rather shakily trying to hide my nerves, my legs feel wobbly beneath me. Gathering up my satchel, I abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door.
"You don't need to knock - just go in." She smiles kindly.
I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet, and falling head first into the office. Shithouse Mouse - me and my two left feet! I am on my hands and knees in the doorway to Dr Lecter's office, and gentle hands are around me helping me to stand. I am so embarrassed, damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to glance up. Holy cow - he's so handsome.
"Miss Mapp." He extends a hand to me once I'm upright. "I'm Dr Hannibal Lecter. Are you all right? Would you like to sit?"
I'd guess around forty - and attractive, very attractive. He's tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with sleek dark colored hair and intense, maroon colored eyes that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice, I'm lost in his gaze.
"Um. Actually - " I mutter.
In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate.
"Miss Mapp is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind, Dr Lecter."
"And you are?" His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it's difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite.
"Clarice Starling. I'm currently training at the academy with Ardelia, um... Miss Mapp at Quantico."
"I see," he says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile in his expression, but I'm not sure. "Would you like to sit?" He waves me toward a black leather buttoned couch.
His office is way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there's a huge modern dark-wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. White ceiling and walls except, on the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite - a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking. It would not look out of place in a gallery such as the Louvre.
"A local artist. Trouton," says Lecter when he catches my gaze.
"They're lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary," I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently.
"I couldn't agree more, Miss Starling," he replies, his voice soft and for some inexplicable reason I find myself blushing.
I wonder if the décor of his office reflects the personality of the gentleman who sinks gracefully into one of the black leather chairs opposite me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts, and retrieve Ardelia's questions from my satchel. Next, I set up the mini-disc recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the coffee table in front of me. Dr Lecter says nothing, waiting patiently - I hope - as I become increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I pluck up the courage to look at him, he's watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he's trying to suppress a smile.
"Sorry," I stutter. "I'm not used to this."
"Take all the time you need, Miss Starling," he says.
"Do you mind if I record your answers?"
"After you've taken so much trouble to set up the recorder - you ask me now?"
I flush. He's teasing me I hope. I blink at him, unsure what to say, and I think he takes pity on me because he relents. "No, I don't mind."
"Did Ardelia, I mean, Miss Mapp explain what the interview was for?"
"Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the trainee special agent news flier as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year's graduation ceremony."
Oh! This is news to me, and I'm temporarily pre-occupied by the thought that someone so mega successful is going to present me with my degree. I frown, dragging my wayward attention back to the task at hand.
"That's good," I swallow nervously. "I have some questions, Dr Lecter." I smooth a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
"I thought you might," he says, deadpan. He's laughing at me. My cheeks heat at the realization, and I sit up and square my shoulders in an attempt to look taller and more intimidating. Pressing the start button on the recorder, I try to look professional.
"You're quite young to have amassed such an established reputation within your field. To what do you owe your success?" I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed.
"Psychiatry is all about people, Miss Starling, and I'm very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn't, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well." He pauses and fixes me with his maroon stare. "My belief is to achieve success in any part of life one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions on a patient's requirements based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture. The bottom line is it's always down to good listening skills and an understanding of people."
"Maybe you're just lucky." This isn't on Ardelia's list - but he's so arrogant. His eyes flare momentarily in surprise.
"I don't subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Starling. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about directing your energies accordingly"
"You sound like a control freak." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
"Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Steele," he says without a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him, and he holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens, and my face flushes again.
Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me. His overwhelming good-looks maybe. The way his eyes blaze at me. The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip. I wish he'd stop doing that.
"Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things," he continues, his voice soft.
"Do you feel that you have immense power?" Control Freak.
"I am responsible for aiding the thoughts of some of the countries most damaged individuals, Miss Starling. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility - power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in helping these people and indeed assisting your colleagues at Quantico in profiling offenders then thousands people would be affected."
My mouth drops open. I am staggered by his lack of humility. Holy crap, he's so arrogant. I change tack.
"And do you have any interests outside your work?"
"I have varied interests, Miss Starling." A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Very varied." And for some reason, I'm confounded and heated by his steady gaze. His eyes are alight with some wicked thought.
"But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?"
"Chill out?" He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good-looking.
"Well, to 'chill out' as you put it - I cook, I dance, I indulge in various operatic performances."
He shifts in his chair. "I'm a very wealthy man, Miss Starling, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies."
I glance quickly at Ardelia's questions, wanting to get off this subject.
"You invest a lot of time with aiding the profilling of suspects at Quantico. Why, specifically?" I ask. Why does he make me so uncomfortable?
"I'm naturally inquisitive. I like to know how and why people tick and therefore commit crimes, What can I say?"
"That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts."
His mouth quirks up, and he stares appraisingly at me.
"Possibly. Though there are people who'd say I don't have a heart."
"Why would they say that?"
"Because they know me well." His lip curls in a wry smile.
"Would your friends say you're easy to get to know?" And I regret the question as soon as I say it. It's not on Ardelia's list.
"I'm a very private person, Miss Starling. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don't often give interviews," he trails off.
"Why did you agree to do this one?"
"Because I'm a partner of the academy, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn't get Miss Mapp off my back. She badgered and badgered my people, and I admire that kind of tenacity."
I know how tenacious Ardelia can be. That's why I'm sitting here squirming uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, when I should be back at the duplex.
"Do you have a philosophy - If so, what is it?"
"I don't have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle - Carnegie's: 'A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.' I'm very singular, driven. I like control - of myself and those around me."
"So you want to possess things?" You are a control freak.
"Bottom line, Yes I do."
"You sound like the ultimate consumer."
"I am." He smiles, but the smile doesn't touch his eyes. Again this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can't help thinking that we're talking about something else, but I'm absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The temperature in the room is rising or maybe it's just me. I just want this interview to be over. Surely Ardelia has enough material now. I glance at the next question.
"Your parents died leaving you at a young age. How far do you think that's shaped the way you are?" Oh, this is personal. I stare at him, hoping he's not offended. His brow furrows.
"I have no way of knowing."
My interest is piqued.
"How old were you when you were orphaned? Didn't you go to stay with relatives, an aunt I'm sure it states here?"
"That's a matter of public record, Miss Starling." His tone is stern. I flush, again. Crap.
Yes of course - if I'd known I was doing this interview, I would have done some research. I move on quickly.
"You've had to sacrifice a family life for your work."
"That's not a question." He's terse.
"Sorry." I squirm, and he's made me feel like an errant child. I try again. "Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?"
"I'm not interested in extending myself to having a family. I don't see this as a sacrifice, I see it as a lifestyle choice"
"Are you gay, Dr Lecter?"
He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. Crap. Why didn't I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out. How can I tell him I'm just reading the questions? Damn Ardelia and her curiosity!
"No Clarice, I'm not." He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. He does not look pleased.
"I apologize. It's um... written here." It's the first time he's said my name. My heartbeat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck my loosened hair behind my ear.
He cocks his head to one side.
"These aren't your own questions?"
The blood drains from my head. Oh no.
"Err... no. Ardelia - Miss Mapp - she compiled the questions."
"Are you colleagues on the student flier?" Oh crap. I have nothing to do with the student flier. It's her extra-curricular activity, not mine. My face is aflame.
"No. She's my roommate."
He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, his maroon eyes appraising me.
"Did you volunteer to do this interview?" he asks, his voice deadly quiet.
Hang on, who's supposed to be interviewing whom. His eyes burn into me, and I'm compelled to answer with the truth.
"I was drafted. She's not well." My voice is weak and apologetic.
"That explains a great deal."
There's a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters.
"Dr Lecter, forgive me for interrupting, but your next appointment is in two minutes."
"We're not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next appointment."
Andrea hesitates, gaping at him. She's appears lost. He turns his head slowly to face her and raises his eyebrows. She flushes bright pink. Oh good. It's not just me.
"Very well, Dr Lecter" she mutters, then exits. He frowns, and turns his attention back to me.
"Where were we, Miss Starling?"
Oh, we're back to 'Miss Starling' now.
"Please don't let me keep you from anything."
"I want to know about you. I think that's only fair… Quid Pro Quo." His maroon eyes are alight with curiosity. Double crap. Where's he going with this. He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very... distracting. I swallow.
"There's not much to know," I say, flushing again.
"What are your plans after you graduate?"
I shrug, thrown by his interest. "I haven't made any definitive plans, Dr Lecter. But I am interested in a career within behavioral science."
"Your degree is in psychology I assume? We run an excellent internship program here," he says quietly. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is he offering me a job?
"Oh. I'll bear that in mind," I murmur, completely confounded. "Though I'm not sure I'd fit in here." Oh no. I'm musing out loud again.
"Why do you say that?" He cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" I'm uncoordinated, average, and I'm not blonde.
"Not to me," he murmurs. His gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from his scrutiny and stare blindly down at my knotted fingers. What's going on I have to go - now. I lean forward to retrieve the recorder.
"Would you like me to show you around?" he asks.
"I'm sure you're far too busy, Dr Lecter, and I do have a long drive back to DC."
"You're driving back to DC?" He sounds surprised, anxious even. He glances out of the window. It's begun to rain. "Well, you'd better drive carefully." His tone is stern, authoritative. Why should he care "Did you get everything you need?" he adds.
"Yes sir," I reply, packing the recorder into my satchel. His eyes narrow, speculatively.
"Thank you for the interview, Dr Lecter."
"The pleasure's been all mine," he says, polite as ever.
As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.
"Until we meet again, Miss Starling." And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I'm not sure which. I frown. When will we ever meet again. I shake his hand once more, astounded that that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.
"Dr Lecter." I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, he opens it wide.
"Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss Starling" He gives me a cheeky wink. Obviously, he's referring to my earlier less-than-elegant entry into his office. I flush.
"That's very considerate, Dr Lecter" I snap, and his smile widens. "I'm glad you find me entertaining", I glower inwardly, walking into the foyer. I'm surprised when he follows me out. Andrea and Olivia both look up, equally surprised.
"Did you have a coat?" Lecter asks.
"Yes." Olivia leaps up and retrieves my jacket, which Lecter takes from her before she can hand it to me. He holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on.
Lecter places his hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If he notices my reaction, he gives nothing away. His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting - awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his.
The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here. When I turn to look at him, he's leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It's distracting. His burning maroon eyes gaze at me.
"Clarice," he says as a farewell.
"Doctor" I reply. And mercifully, the doors close.