Clarice Starling thought that she recognized the graceful pattern of the steady footfalls coming down the corridor. She heard a voice, deftly concealing itself as it instructed Dr. Chilton to wait behind. She heard the annoyance in Chilton's haughty tone as he stalked off, back to his office. She smiled.
She had put her book away and was waiting with the light in her cell set to an almost unintimidating glow. It was only polite not to frighten one's guests, she supposed, and it wouldn't do to have one's guests squinting in the dark.
The man who she next saw was dark and trim, and moved with feral grace as he approached her cell. He had removed the hazel contact lenses just as he came into her veiw and out of Chilton's. She saw his pupils, startled by the sudden exposure to light, contract rapidly; redly. The irises around them were deep maroon...not a common shade of eye, and it gave Hannibal Lector away. But that was, of course, what he had intended.
He smiled, still not dropping his disguise, knowing that Chilton, however imperceptive he was, was monitoring something from somewhere. He was a prying man, Fredrick Chilton, and insects of his caliber were not to be taken too lightly.
Clarice was rather startled, even pleased, to see the wanted Dr. Lector daring to so boldly return to his very own former cell while still at large. He spoke before her astonishment could register on her face. His voice was as fluid as ever before; if moderately covered with a false accent that very few people could have deciphered.
"My name is Doctor Charon, Miss Starling," he said, extending his hand, and she recognized the reference to the poet Dante. She shook his hand, still slightly shocked, nodding because she could think of nothing to say. "I'd like to talk with you, if I may..." His strange eyes flickered slightly with amusement, seeing her startle at the perfect imitation of her own inflection, if not tone, from all those years ago.
"Yes...of course..."
"Perhaps Mr. Chilton informed you as to my intentions?" He raised his eyebrows quizzically.
"He did...yes. Well, somewhat."
"And I trust, then, that you are willing to answer my questions to the best of your ability?" He waited.
"I am."
Dr. Lector drew himself up a little, never taking his eyes from hers; not blinking at all.
"Tell me...do they treat you well here?"
Starling had not been entirely prepared for the question, and her face fluttered once as she tried to answer. "Moderately so, I would presume, Dr...Charon." He smiled. It was a crooked sort of smile. "And you feel that you have been justly confined...?"
"No"
"Really? Do elaborate, Miss Starling, how do you feel about your incarceration?"
"I couldn't say; really, personally, I'd say that I feel that it's irrelevent. I'm no worse off here then anywhere else."
He tilted his face slightly, and she mirrored the movement unconciously. His voice was very low, but her ears, grown keener from years in prison, picked up the subtle words easily.
"Would you like to see Dr. Chilton in a great deal of pain?"
Her face faltered a little. The thought did appeal to her, but her tenacious moral integrity gave her a stab of peculiar guilt.
"Answer the question, please..." This was well within the normal range of human hearing.
She bit a little at the inside of her lip before responding. There was no point in trying to be evasive. Hannibal Lector was entirely too perceptive for that. "Yes."
She looked at the sparks flying into the darkness behind his eyes and she too did not blink. He smiled at her perhaps more warmly then he smiled at anyone; but nevertheless with a chilly sort of humour.
"That is all, for now, but you may expect me to return shortly. Within the week, without a doubt." With that he went, giving her a curt nod of farewell.
Starling sat on her bed with the light turned down; thinking of cannibalism.
She had put her book away and was waiting with the light in her cell set to an almost unintimidating glow. It was only polite not to frighten one's guests, she supposed, and it wouldn't do to have one's guests squinting in the dark.
The man who she next saw was dark and trim, and moved with feral grace as he approached her cell. He had removed the hazel contact lenses just as he came into her veiw and out of Chilton's. She saw his pupils, startled by the sudden exposure to light, contract rapidly; redly. The irises around them were deep maroon...not a common shade of eye, and it gave Hannibal Lector away. But that was, of course, what he had intended.
He smiled, still not dropping his disguise, knowing that Chilton, however imperceptive he was, was monitoring something from somewhere. He was a prying man, Fredrick Chilton, and insects of his caliber were not to be taken too lightly.
Clarice was rather startled, even pleased, to see the wanted Dr. Lector daring to so boldly return to his very own former cell while still at large. He spoke before her astonishment could register on her face. His voice was as fluid as ever before; if moderately covered with a false accent that very few people could have deciphered.
"My name is Doctor Charon, Miss Starling," he said, extending his hand, and she recognized the reference to the poet Dante. She shook his hand, still slightly shocked, nodding because she could think of nothing to say. "I'd like to talk with you, if I may..." His strange eyes flickered slightly with amusement, seeing her startle at the perfect imitation of her own inflection, if not tone, from all those years ago.
"Yes...of course..."
"Perhaps Mr. Chilton informed you as to my intentions?" He raised his eyebrows quizzically.
"He did...yes. Well, somewhat."
"And I trust, then, that you are willing to answer my questions to the best of your ability?" He waited.
"I am."
Dr. Lector drew himself up a little, never taking his eyes from hers; not blinking at all.
"Tell me...do they treat you well here?"
Starling had not been entirely prepared for the question, and her face fluttered once as she tried to answer. "Moderately so, I would presume, Dr...Charon." He smiled. It was a crooked sort of smile. "And you feel that you have been justly confined...?"
"No"
"Really? Do elaborate, Miss Starling, how do you feel about your incarceration?"
"I couldn't say; really, personally, I'd say that I feel that it's irrelevent. I'm no worse off here then anywhere else."
He tilted his face slightly, and she mirrored the movement unconciously. His voice was very low, but her ears, grown keener from years in prison, picked up the subtle words easily.
"Would you like to see Dr. Chilton in a great deal of pain?"
Her face faltered a little. The thought did appeal to her, but her tenacious moral integrity gave her a stab of peculiar guilt.
"Answer the question, please..." This was well within the normal range of human hearing.
She bit a little at the inside of her lip before responding. There was no point in trying to be evasive. Hannibal Lector was entirely too perceptive for that. "Yes."
She looked at the sparks flying into the darkness behind his eyes and she too did not blink. He smiled at her perhaps more warmly then he smiled at anyone; but nevertheless with a chilly sort of humour.
"That is all, for now, but you may expect me to return shortly. Within the week, without a doubt." With that he went, giving her a curt nod of farewell.
Starling sat on her bed with the light turned down; thinking of cannibalism.