Disclaimer: Clarice is not mine. She belongs to Hannibal, and i like my liver just fine where it is, so i won't argue with the good doctor. Angelus Antoine and Dominique Montero are the products of my own sick and fucked up mind. Please don't sue, cos all you'll get is the pack of Marlboros on my desk.
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The woman tipped her head to the left and grinned suddenly. She reached out and grabbed Angelus into a bear hug, rubbing Angelus' head like a dog afterward, mussing up her hair.
"Goddamn it Angel-eyes. Where have you been?" her English has a slightly Spanish-accented lilt.
"London to visit the queen."
"I wouldn't be surprised. Tell me, did you frighten the little mouse under her chair, hmmm?"
" Nope. No mice this time. Just big fat parliamentary rats. Peerage bastards."
"You have such a low opinion of the nobility, considering you are one of them."
"Ah, but not by choice, my darling Domi. One does not choose how he or she is to be born."
"You know, I've always felt so very sorry for those poor princes and princesses'. Tsk tsk. Such unhappy lives. All that money, those servants and their ponies. Such unlucky brats."
"You don't have to be sarcastic, Domi."
"Since when have I not been, in all of my thirty years? Good lord Angelus, surely you must know that. Oh, where are my manners. Matter of fact, where are yours?"
"Pardon?"
"Introduce me to your friend, Doctor."
"My apologies." Angelus turns to Clarice. "Domi, this is Hannah Ruiz. And Hannah, this escaped lunatic is my best friend, the one whom I had been talking about in the car, Dominique Montero."
"Hello, Dominique."
Please, call me Domi. Everyone else seems to. Except for Angel-eyes here who sometimes pronounces it as 'Dummy'. Is Hannah Ruiz your full name?"
"Yes, actually it is."
"Very short, isn't it?"
"Quite."
Clarice liked Dominique Montero. There was a refreshing candidness to her person. Plus, she also reminded her of what Angelus might be like if she were only friendlier. Could they be related?
"Are you married, Hannah?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, I am."
"Hmmm. For how long?"
"A few months." Clarice tried to evade the questions. She liked Angelus and Dominique, so she didn't relish the thought of lying to them.
"Okey-dokey then. Introductions completed, lets go inside now, shall we, Dominique?"
Clarice felt grateful for Angelus intervention, until she looked into the other woman's eyes and saw that Angelus knew she was uncomfortable with the topic, yet had not drawn any conclusions yet.
"Actually, I thought we might go riding."
"Riding?" Clarice repeated.
"Yes, Hannah. Angelus, your new horse has just arrived from Spain. Devilishly handsome bastard he is, too."
"I haven't seen him yet."
"Let us go then, shall we? Perfect specimen of a black Andalusian." Dominique gestured towards an old building into the distance. Those must be the stables.
"Alright." Angelus reached into her car and retrieved two small bags. One was Clarice's and the other was hers. She had told 'Hannah' to pack in an extra shirt and some jeans as well. Now Clarice understood why.
The estate was wonderful and vast, a canvas of delightful contrasts. Whereas the front part of it was carefully manicured and maintained, its fields in the back were allowed to grow wild and free. Sheep grazed in the pastures beyond a small grove of olive trees, and the distant hills were verdant with life.
The barn looked old but stable, its wood weathered by the rain, sun and wind. Several birds nested in the dusty straw in its attic section. Inside, dozens of horses were in their stalls, nickering softly at Angelus who reached out and patted their noses.
"I see you haven't forgotten me, old friend." Angelus said, rubbing the neck of a golden coloured Akhal-Teke', a breed of desert horse prized for their endurance and resistance to heat. Its coat was still shiny, but hung loosely on its aged frame. She leaned into the horse and blew softly into its nostrils.
Clarice was reminded of Hannah, whom she had ridden so long ago, on that cold and lonely night when the screaming started.
Angelus reached into her pocket for a sugar cube, feeding it to the old horse. She gave its platinum mane one last twirl before going over to the next stall.
The sawdust and gravel crunched loosely under Clarice's boots. She smelled the good clean smell of horse sweat and leather. The liniment they used on the animals' tired muscles, as well as the tape they wrap around the horses legs. Several sacks of feed were piled up in one corner, scattered beside the huge haystack. A pitchfork was stuck in it, beside a mangy English sheep dog that raised his tired head to glance at them before laying it back on its paws.
"There's a changing room in the back, Hannah. You go on and dress ahead while I show Angelus her new horse."
Angelus looked at them. "No, I'll be along in a moment. We'll go and look at the horse together, eh?"
"No, really, Angelus. It's fine. Go and take a look at the 'handsome bastard' and I'll be fine. Really." She made quotation marks in the air.
"Alright. But Dominique, I want you to stay with her and you also get dressed. Just tell me where the damned horse is."
"Sure thing Angel-eyes." Domi Montero smiled, once again, blue eyes twinkling.
"Where's the horse?"
"Next building, last stall to the right. You, know, the one where they used to keep Alfonso before he was shot in the hunt," she paused as if assessing Angelus' reaction.
" I'm sorry Angel-eyes, but it was the only empty one."
Angelus tensed, as if remembering something painful, then nodded curtly and marched out the building, veering to the left. She also has her monsters. For Clarice it is the lambs, Hannibal, the deer, for Angelus, the memory of a green-eyed boy and the horse Alfonso.
Clarice watched her stalk out before turning around to get dressed. Dominique Montero put a restraining hand on her shoulder. Clarice looked into her eyes, which were no longer friendly but instead, glazed over with the look of a predator. But she was not afraid.
"Hannah, what do you think of Angelus?"
"She is a very nice person," Clarice offered.
"No, what I mean is, what do you perceive her to be?"
"As I said before, I find her to be a very nice person," she said brusquely, not liking the tone in Dominique's voice. "And I do not appreciate being handled like so."
Instantly Dominique let go of her shoulder and took a step backwards.
"I do apologize." She narrowed her eyes at Clarice. "You think she is very nice? Well, do not allow yourself to be fooled. She seems harmless, does she not? Even kind, passive, maybe, for all her great intelligence, you still think you are better than she is, don't you, Hannah?"
"That's bullshit, and you know it, Montero." She was riled now, snatches of her West Virginian accent shining through.
"Is your name even Hannah Ruiz? Tell me, Miss."
"Why are you doing this?"
"I am doing this because Angelus is my friend. I have known her almost all my life since she was born. We grew up together, and played together. She seems to like you very much, and I would not want to think of you lying to her."
"I do not lie unless necessary."
"And do you deem it necessary to withhold the truth from her?"
"Which is?"
"You tell me."
"Be more specific."
"Tell me, Hannah, what is your stand on murder?"
"What does this have to do with Angelus?"
"Just tell me! Is it alright with you, or are your delicate feminine sensibilities so offended by the taking of a life?"
"You have no idea who you are talking to."
"You think? Trust me, I know much more than you believe, Special Agent Starling."
Clarice was shocked. Frantically she raced through her mind, searching for a means to end this conversation, even if it meant taking the life of Dominique Montero.
"Go on, Clarice. Tell me all. About how your alleged disappearance from the F.B.I. was staged, you never were really carried off by Hannibal Lecter, you're working undercover, trying to expose Angelus and put her in jail."
At that instant, Clarice could have almost laughed in her face with relief. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
"No, Miss Montero. You are quite mistaken. Whatever you may think you know, throw it out the window, and believe this. I would not do anything to harm Angelus." Dominique looked deep into Clarice's eyes and knew it to be true.
"However, I would like this to be kept between the two of us, understood?"
"And why is that, Special Agent Starling?"
"Former Special Agent."
"Were you really taken by Hannibal Lecter?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes." She blushed.
Dominique Montero smiled, the twinkle back into her eyes. "Let's leave it at that now, shall we? I admit I myself am not as innocent as can be believed."
"Really now, Domi?"
"True. Since you have been so candid with your admissions, allow me to confide a little truth about myself and Angelus."
"Are you sure that is a wise thing?"
"Why not?"
"Then I have no objections."
"Ever wonder why Angelus doesn't talk much about her childhood?"
"She TALKS about it?" Clarice raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Actually, she seems to bristle like a porcupine each time I try to mention her mother or her childhood."
"She didn't have a very happy one."
"So I gathered."
"The Comtesse Marie Jacqueline Antoine is a bitter and cold woman," Dominique started.
"Her mother."
"Right. When she was pregnant with Angelus, there was a big scandal over it. She was known as the 'ice princess', or the 'snow queen', the type where butter would not melt in her mouth, denying every single male access to her bed. So when she was enceinte, you can just imagine what people thought."
"Who was Angelus' father?"
"Who knows? Certainly not me, or her for that matter. The Comtesse never told anyone. Even Angelus."
"Is that all to it?"
"No, there's more. When Angelus was born, she was shipped off to one of their estates in England, where she was raised by a veritable army of servants. The closest thing to a father she ever had was Norfolk, their butler."
"How did you two become friends?"
"Well, technically we're cousins. Our mothers were. She was born when I was three, and since I was also living in an adjoining estate, we often played together. Clarice, I am the only real friend Angelus has ever had, until you came along."
Clarice furrowed her brow, wondering where this was headed. Dominique noticed this and quickly tried to calm her down.
"Don't worry, I'll not tell her who you really are. For all her friendliness, Angelus is very much capable of destruction."
"No, that's not why I was frowning. I was just wondering why she hates her mother so much. I mean, sending her away was bad enough, but at least she was well cared for," Clarice saw the obvious parallel with her own life, her mother sending her away to live in a sheep and horse ranch. But that was because there was no other choice. Angelus' mother actually sent her there for no apparent reason. "Was she?"
"Yes, of course. I mean she IS a Viscomtesse. Angelus is very strange, haven't you noticed?"
Clarice immediately thought of Hannibal. "No," she admitted.
"Good for you. Even as a child she was always like that. Sometimes I would ride over there on my horse to play with Angelus, and she would be seated on the floor in the centre of their great library, just reading all these old books. It was very weird."
"People like to read."
"But with her, it was almost this obsessive need, to learn."
"Go on."
"We both went to the same schools together. She was a rebel, always getting into trouble with authority, but they couldn't kick her out because of her mother's money and influence, plus it was undeniable that Angelus was a true genius."
"Are you also a doctor?"
"No. See, that's where she starts hating her mother. Despite graduating at the top of each and every class she ever took and being accelerated and skipping grade levels due to her intelligence, her mother would not let her be a doctor. She wanted Angelus to enter the family business, which was basically dabbling in the stock market. When Angelus was fifteen, she wanted to go to medical school at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Jacqueline wouldn't let her. She cut off all financial support, and Angelus was forced to fend for herself. She tried applying for scholarship, of course, but was immediately denied after the higher ups viewed her records, you know, previous schools and stuff. And let me tell you, those fucking things were not cheap. So a scholarship was out. She tried doing odd jobs, but medical schools are devilishly expensive things, and despite the fact that she was juggling two jobs AND going to school, it just wasn't enough."
"How did she ever finish?"
"I tried to offer her some monetary support. I myself was going to school at Harvard, to be a lawyer. She did not want money she did not work for herself, and that is where Miguel De La Roche stepped in."
"The Columbian Drug lord…."
"Yes, the very same. He offered her a job. It was very grisly, but Angelus was willing to do it."
"So she became a drug runner." Clarice speculated.
"No, far from it. De La Roche wanted her to be a professional assassin. She accepted. Seemed to enjoy it as well. I suppose that's how she manages her rage."
"An assassin? Angelus was an assassin?"
"Still is. Though these days, she mostly does it as favours as well as for the kicks. Funny thing is, she never once flinched while killing someone. Committed her first murders at sixteen, when the bills just wouldn't add up. You see, Angelus has always been very good with guns, even as a child she could hit a soda bottle at 200 yards without the aid of an optical sight, just using a simple metallic one. The two of you could talk shop for hours." Dominique smiled. "That's all you need to know, and I suspect, you already understand. So lets get dressed now, shall we, before Angelus gets back."
"One last question though, Domi."
"What is it, Clarice?"
"Why do you call her Angel-eyes?"
"Have you ever seen her eyes?"
"Yes."
"Farthest thing from an angel's, don't you think? I'm more inclined to imagine a devil would possess such eyes."
"Oh, I don't know," Clarice was smiling softly. "I think an angel and a devil could have eyes like that…" My Hannibal, she added silently.
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Hiya folks! :) Please bear with me. I know y'all want to get on to the Lecter bit, but I kinda wanted to establish Angelus as a real person with a background, not like other literary Lecter offspring. I have been sooo guilty of taking the "kids" for granted, only wanting to read about Lecter. Indulge me, Okey-dokey, blokes? I promise the next bit will have Hannibal in it. But, as Shirley Manson once sang: Lord knows I try to be good; I keep my promises if only I could......
oh, please r/r and tell me if i should even bother posting the next bit or if i have bored you. thanx. flame me via e-mail, okey-dokey? not like that girl from B.S. Psychology.
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The woman tipped her head to the left and grinned suddenly. She reached out and grabbed Angelus into a bear hug, rubbing Angelus' head like a dog afterward, mussing up her hair.
"Goddamn it Angel-eyes. Where have you been?" her English has a slightly Spanish-accented lilt.
"London to visit the queen."
"I wouldn't be surprised. Tell me, did you frighten the little mouse under her chair, hmmm?"
" Nope. No mice this time. Just big fat parliamentary rats. Peerage bastards."
"You have such a low opinion of the nobility, considering you are one of them."
"Ah, but not by choice, my darling Domi. One does not choose how he or she is to be born."
"You know, I've always felt so very sorry for those poor princes and princesses'. Tsk tsk. Such unhappy lives. All that money, those servants and their ponies. Such unlucky brats."
"You don't have to be sarcastic, Domi."
"Since when have I not been, in all of my thirty years? Good lord Angelus, surely you must know that. Oh, where are my manners. Matter of fact, where are yours?"
"Pardon?"
"Introduce me to your friend, Doctor."
"My apologies." Angelus turns to Clarice. "Domi, this is Hannah Ruiz. And Hannah, this escaped lunatic is my best friend, the one whom I had been talking about in the car, Dominique Montero."
"Hello, Dominique."
Please, call me Domi. Everyone else seems to. Except for Angel-eyes here who sometimes pronounces it as 'Dummy'. Is Hannah Ruiz your full name?"
"Yes, actually it is."
"Very short, isn't it?"
"Quite."
Clarice liked Dominique Montero. There was a refreshing candidness to her person. Plus, she also reminded her of what Angelus might be like if she were only friendlier. Could they be related?
"Are you married, Hannah?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, I am."
"Hmmm. For how long?"
"A few months." Clarice tried to evade the questions. She liked Angelus and Dominique, so she didn't relish the thought of lying to them.
"Okey-dokey then. Introductions completed, lets go inside now, shall we, Dominique?"
Clarice felt grateful for Angelus intervention, until she looked into the other woman's eyes and saw that Angelus knew she was uncomfortable with the topic, yet had not drawn any conclusions yet.
"Actually, I thought we might go riding."
"Riding?" Clarice repeated.
"Yes, Hannah. Angelus, your new horse has just arrived from Spain. Devilishly handsome bastard he is, too."
"I haven't seen him yet."
"Let us go then, shall we? Perfect specimen of a black Andalusian." Dominique gestured towards an old building into the distance. Those must be the stables.
"Alright." Angelus reached into her car and retrieved two small bags. One was Clarice's and the other was hers. She had told 'Hannah' to pack in an extra shirt and some jeans as well. Now Clarice understood why.
The estate was wonderful and vast, a canvas of delightful contrasts. Whereas the front part of it was carefully manicured and maintained, its fields in the back were allowed to grow wild and free. Sheep grazed in the pastures beyond a small grove of olive trees, and the distant hills were verdant with life.
The barn looked old but stable, its wood weathered by the rain, sun and wind. Several birds nested in the dusty straw in its attic section. Inside, dozens of horses were in their stalls, nickering softly at Angelus who reached out and patted their noses.
"I see you haven't forgotten me, old friend." Angelus said, rubbing the neck of a golden coloured Akhal-Teke', a breed of desert horse prized for their endurance and resistance to heat. Its coat was still shiny, but hung loosely on its aged frame. She leaned into the horse and blew softly into its nostrils.
Clarice was reminded of Hannah, whom she had ridden so long ago, on that cold and lonely night when the screaming started.
Angelus reached into her pocket for a sugar cube, feeding it to the old horse. She gave its platinum mane one last twirl before going over to the next stall.
The sawdust and gravel crunched loosely under Clarice's boots. She smelled the good clean smell of horse sweat and leather. The liniment they used on the animals' tired muscles, as well as the tape they wrap around the horses legs. Several sacks of feed were piled up in one corner, scattered beside the huge haystack. A pitchfork was stuck in it, beside a mangy English sheep dog that raised his tired head to glance at them before laying it back on its paws.
"There's a changing room in the back, Hannah. You go on and dress ahead while I show Angelus her new horse."
Angelus looked at them. "No, I'll be along in a moment. We'll go and look at the horse together, eh?"
"No, really, Angelus. It's fine. Go and take a look at the 'handsome bastard' and I'll be fine. Really." She made quotation marks in the air.
"Alright. But Dominique, I want you to stay with her and you also get dressed. Just tell me where the damned horse is."
"Sure thing Angel-eyes." Domi Montero smiled, once again, blue eyes twinkling.
"Where's the horse?"
"Next building, last stall to the right. You, know, the one where they used to keep Alfonso before he was shot in the hunt," she paused as if assessing Angelus' reaction.
" I'm sorry Angel-eyes, but it was the only empty one."
Angelus tensed, as if remembering something painful, then nodded curtly and marched out the building, veering to the left. She also has her monsters. For Clarice it is the lambs, Hannibal, the deer, for Angelus, the memory of a green-eyed boy and the horse Alfonso.
Clarice watched her stalk out before turning around to get dressed. Dominique Montero put a restraining hand on her shoulder. Clarice looked into her eyes, which were no longer friendly but instead, glazed over with the look of a predator. But she was not afraid.
"Hannah, what do you think of Angelus?"
"She is a very nice person," Clarice offered.
"No, what I mean is, what do you perceive her to be?"
"As I said before, I find her to be a very nice person," she said brusquely, not liking the tone in Dominique's voice. "And I do not appreciate being handled like so."
Instantly Dominique let go of her shoulder and took a step backwards.
"I do apologize." She narrowed her eyes at Clarice. "You think she is very nice? Well, do not allow yourself to be fooled. She seems harmless, does she not? Even kind, passive, maybe, for all her great intelligence, you still think you are better than she is, don't you, Hannah?"
"That's bullshit, and you know it, Montero." She was riled now, snatches of her West Virginian accent shining through.
"Is your name even Hannah Ruiz? Tell me, Miss."
"Why are you doing this?"
"I am doing this because Angelus is my friend. I have known her almost all my life since she was born. We grew up together, and played together. She seems to like you very much, and I would not want to think of you lying to her."
"I do not lie unless necessary."
"And do you deem it necessary to withhold the truth from her?"
"Which is?"
"You tell me."
"Be more specific."
"Tell me, Hannah, what is your stand on murder?"
"What does this have to do with Angelus?"
"Just tell me! Is it alright with you, or are your delicate feminine sensibilities so offended by the taking of a life?"
"You have no idea who you are talking to."
"You think? Trust me, I know much more than you believe, Special Agent Starling."
Clarice was shocked. Frantically she raced through her mind, searching for a means to end this conversation, even if it meant taking the life of Dominique Montero.
"Go on, Clarice. Tell me all. About how your alleged disappearance from the F.B.I. was staged, you never were really carried off by Hannibal Lecter, you're working undercover, trying to expose Angelus and put her in jail."
At that instant, Clarice could have almost laughed in her face with relief. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
"No, Miss Montero. You are quite mistaken. Whatever you may think you know, throw it out the window, and believe this. I would not do anything to harm Angelus." Dominique looked deep into Clarice's eyes and knew it to be true.
"However, I would like this to be kept between the two of us, understood?"
"And why is that, Special Agent Starling?"
"Former Special Agent."
"Were you really taken by Hannibal Lecter?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes." She blushed.
Dominique Montero smiled, the twinkle back into her eyes. "Let's leave it at that now, shall we? I admit I myself am not as innocent as can be believed."
"Really now, Domi?"
"True. Since you have been so candid with your admissions, allow me to confide a little truth about myself and Angelus."
"Are you sure that is a wise thing?"
"Why not?"
"Then I have no objections."
"Ever wonder why Angelus doesn't talk much about her childhood?"
"She TALKS about it?" Clarice raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Actually, she seems to bristle like a porcupine each time I try to mention her mother or her childhood."
"She didn't have a very happy one."
"So I gathered."
"The Comtesse Marie Jacqueline Antoine is a bitter and cold woman," Dominique started.
"Her mother."
"Right. When she was pregnant with Angelus, there was a big scandal over it. She was known as the 'ice princess', or the 'snow queen', the type where butter would not melt in her mouth, denying every single male access to her bed. So when she was enceinte, you can just imagine what people thought."
"Who was Angelus' father?"
"Who knows? Certainly not me, or her for that matter. The Comtesse never told anyone. Even Angelus."
"Is that all to it?"
"No, there's more. When Angelus was born, she was shipped off to one of their estates in England, where she was raised by a veritable army of servants. The closest thing to a father she ever had was Norfolk, their butler."
"How did you two become friends?"
"Well, technically we're cousins. Our mothers were. She was born when I was three, and since I was also living in an adjoining estate, we often played together. Clarice, I am the only real friend Angelus has ever had, until you came along."
Clarice furrowed her brow, wondering where this was headed. Dominique noticed this and quickly tried to calm her down.
"Don't worry, I'll not tell her who you really are. For all her friendliness, Angelus is very much capable of destruction."
"No, that's not why I was frowning. I was just wondering why she hates her mother so much. I mean, sending her away was bad enough, but at least she was well cared for," Clarice saw the obvious parallel with her own life, her mother sending her away to live in a sheep and horse ranch. But that was because there was no other choice. Angelus' mother actually sent her there for no apparent reason. "Was she?"
"Yes, of course. I mean she IS a Viscomtesse. Angelus is very strange, haven't you noticed?"
Clarice immediately thought of Hannibal. "No," she admitted.
"Good for you. Even as a child she was always like that. Sometimes I would ride over there on my horse to play with Angelus, and she would be seated on the floor in the centre of their great library, just reading all these old books. It was very weird."
"People like to read."
"But with her, it was almost this obsessive need, to learn."
"Go on."
"We both went to the same schools together. She was a rebel, always getting into trouble with authority, but they couldn't kick her out because of her mother's money and influence, plus it was undeniable that Angelus was a true genius."
"Are you also a doctor?"
"No. See, that's where she starts hating her mother. Despite graduating at the top of each and every class she ever took and being accelerated and skipping grade levels due to her intelligence, her mother would not let her be a doctor. She wanted Angelus to enter the family business, which was basically dabbling in the stock market. When Angelus was fifteen, she wanted to go to medical school at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Jacqueline wouldn't let her. She cut off all financial support, and Angelus was forced to fend for herself. She tried applying for scholarship, of course, but was immediately denied after the higher ups viewed her records, you know, previous schools and stuff. And let me tell you, those fucking things were not cheap. So a scholarship was out. She tried doing odd jobs, but medical schools are devilishly expensive things, and despite the fact that she was juggling two jobs AND going to school, it just wasn't enough."
"How did she ever finish?"
"I tried to offer her some monetary support. I myself was going to school at Harvard, to be a lawyer. She did not want money she did not work for herself, and that is where Miguel De La Roche stepped in."
"The Columbian Drug lord…."
"Yes, the very same. He offered her a job. It was very grisly, but Angelus was willing to do it."
"So she became a drug runner." Clarice speculated.
"No, far from it. De La Roche wanted her to be a professional assassin. She accepted. Seemed to enjoy it as well. I suppose that's how she manages her rage."
"An assassin? Angelus was an assassin?"
"Still is. Though these days, she mostly does it as favours as well as for the kicks. Funny thing is, she never once flinched while killing someone. Committed her first murders at sixteen, when the bills just wouldn't add up. You see, Angelus has always been very good with guns, even as a child she could hit a soda bottle at 200 yards without the aid of an optical sight, just using a simple metallic one. The two of you could talk shop for hours." Dominique smiled. "That's all you need to know, and I suspect, you already understand. So lets get dressed now, shall we, before Angelus gets back."
"One last question though, Domi."
"What is it, Clarice?"
"Why do you call her Angel-eyes?"
"Have you ever seen her eyes?"
"Yes."
"Farthest thing from an angel's, don't you think? I'm more inclined to imagine a devil would possess such eyes."
"Oh, I don't know," Clarice was smiling softly. "I think an angel and a devil could have eyes like that…" My Hannibal, she added silently.
*********************************************************************
Hiya folks! :) Please bear with me. I know y'all want to get on to the Lecter bit, but I kinda wanted to establish Angelus as a real person with a background, not like other literary Lecter offspring. I have been sooo guilty of taking the "kids" for granted, only wanting to read about Lecter. Indulge me, Okey-dokey, blokes? I promise the next bit will have Hannibal in it. But, as Shirley Manson once sang: Lord knows I try to be good; I keep my promises if only I could......
oh, please r/r and tell me if i should even bother posting the next bit or if i have bored you. thanx. flame me via e-mail, okey-dokey? not like that girl from B.S. Psychology.