Dr. Lecter stopped walking before Nicholas did; his arms concealed behind his back as he waited for the younger man to realize the location for the discussion had been selected. Already authority was being forfeited to his superior, and Nicholas was too ignorant to realize it.
Nicholas, obliviously this claimed control over the situation, turned in a fluid motion of fury. "You have some nerve," he accused. "Moving in and ruining my vacation. Not only that, you've brainwashed Clarice into staying here with you. And you've ruined Esamarla's life. I—"
Dr. Lecter held up a hand for silence. This was granted, as though all time stood still to call on the requests of her worst enemy. "Please lower your voice. You'll find it assists with calming the nerves, something I highly recommend before you give yourself a stroke. Now, you've stated some falsities and some truths. Please, allow me to respond in the most courteous manner, given your recent disposition."
With that, the blade of a Harpy sprouted from the raised hand, as though it were an attachment to his body. Dr. Lecter's eyes didn't change, but Nicholas' did. The surprised scream that was supposed to ring out for help never made it. Dr. Lecter moved quickly, pinning him against the red brick wall of the nearest building.
The Harpy alternated to his left hand, his right holding Nicholas in place, the arm bent so that his hand could prevent him from screaming. In the mass that was his body, bystanders would most likely mistake the bulk for a homosexual public display of affection. Dr. Lecter, knowing these people, was not concerned with their thoughts. He maneuvered the Harpy to rest at Nicholas' neck. Once satisfied, he smiled modestly.
"Now then. That's better, don't you agree? If you will, allow me to continue. Your assumption of my association with Clarice is most displaced. Thankfully, her decision in conforming spared your life. Be glad, Nicholas. I have the potential of being a very generous man. You're intensely fortunate that I have allowed you to live this long. The lack of control you displayed last night as well as a few minutes ago has been ample reason for me in the past. Now – yes, I know you're impatient, just humor me a minute longer – the largest error you made was assuming there was nothing beneath the surface of my telltale explanation of my connection with Clarice. Not only that, you audaciously – and quite foolishly, I might add – attempted a force of ownership over her. Surely now you realize she is mine. She has always been mine. Such a prize you attempted to steal from me. Thank her, Nicholas, not me. You ARE quite fortunate.
"May I let you down now, or will you scream? Choose wisely and you might walk away alive. Though I warn you, do not test me. I never lie."
Slowly, Dr. Lecter released his hold and flashed the blade as a warning. When Nicholas declined a scream, he put the Harpy away. The knowledge in Nicholas' eyes informed the doctor that he knew enough to abide, that the Harpy was very much within reach.
"You're…you're…" he stuttered, his eyes reflecting with the fear of what he knew. "You're HIM!"
"Possibly. Would you mind elaborating?" Dr. Lecter smiled, needing no confirmation. This person knew whom he was dealing with.
"You're Hannibal—"
"Quite right. We wouldn't want to spread that, would we? Please extend me this courtesy. I've been more than generous with you." Dr. Lecter's eyes darkened, and Nicholas knew the extent of the threat.
With a meek, humble nod, Nicholas said, "You have my word, Dr. Wilkins."
Looking into his eyes, Dr. Lecter verified this man could be trusted. With a nod in return, he replied, "My thanks, and Clarice's, as well. Now, if you will excuse me…"
With that, Dr. Lecter turned and retreated into the restaurant once more. The casual air he radiated was the envy of many.
Nicholas stood dumbfound for a minute, unable to believe who this person was, who he lost Starling to, and above all, very grateful to be alive. He knew if he wanted to remain that way, he'd have to keep his word. There was no doubt of that.
Nicholas Randall never spoke of Florence or Clarice Starling again.
* * *