Title: The Birth of Venus
Summary: Clarice Starling has been put on forced temporary leave by the Bureau. When she goes to Florence to track down Lecter, she's put on Il Monstro's hit list. What will happen when the good Doctor finds out?
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, the ownership is not mine of anything in this story but the plotline.
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They emerge from his antiquated place of residence elegantly, she in her sundress and a wide-brimmed hat, he in a tailored suit and white fedora.
They pause at the bottom step to reach into their respective pockets and slip on their sunglasses, the designer labels flashing in the bright sunlight. Not gaudily, as some do, but just enough to show their taste and wealth.
He proffers his arm to her; she, smiling at his gesture, accepts it, slipping her own slim arm though his.
They turn and walk into the square.
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We follow them throughout their shopping.
They stop at a used bookstore, where she peruses some of the finer points of gun handling while he picks up a few first-edition cookbooks and a copy of Dante's Inferno, which he presents to her with a flourish.
They stop for a casual lunch, eating on a park bench and taking turns reading passages from the volume out loud. They debate about Heaven and Hell, if there are such places. She, being raised a Protestant, has a firm belief in God. He, having lost his faith years ago, isn't so sure, but loves the poetry anyway, especially coming off of her sweet, almost-unaccented tongue.
They continue their shopping, popping into a couple of formal stores and one that sells nothing but vintage clothes. She is fascinated by them and buys what he says has worn well over the years, quietly pointing out in a few of her selections the unraveling lace and weave. She puts those back, thanking him for his help, pays for her purchases, and they leave for a quiet dinner in a candlelit restaurant.
They don't enjoy the meal half so much as the company.
His eyes reflect the candlelight, the maroon changing to crimson and vermilion when he moves. His pupils drink in her every motion, his ears everything that spills from her mouth, whether it be a simple sigh or a flurry of words. Her hands flutter like scraps of paper in the wind when she speaks, a trait he finds, surprisingly, most endearing. He notices the way she impatiently brushes her hair back from her face when she's excited about the topic of conversation and realizes she did her hair differently to see what he thought. He resolves to tell her not to do it anymore; he much prefers her comfortable and natural looking, though he is pleased at her change of attire. He smiles in thought and continues listening intently to her speak.
Her senses, while not quite as finely attuned as his, were trained differently and so pick up on other motions. How he shifts his weight when he speaks or when someone passes, how his eyes follow her hands when they move as she tries to explain something yet flick consistently from side to side to make sure no one is watching them. How he leans forward when he speaks, and his manner of speech – so careful and planned-out, though not at all rehearsed. He has never had these conversations before, and she wonders how he seems to know, before she says anything, exactly what she is going to say. She resolves to ask him how it is he does that; it's a trick she's tried and failed to master many a time before. She focuses back on the subject matter and delves once more into argument.
They leave the restaurant content with both the meal and each other.
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A/N: I do so love this chapter. XD