Hannibal picked up the larger, heavier man and slung him over his shoulder, looking as strange in his preternatural stregnth as ever. He walked down the hallway without a word, and she followed him.
Clarice watched the prisoners withdraw from the harsh, jaundiced hall-light, and from Dr. Lector; the inmates retreating into the shadows of their cells, eyes gleaming like frightened sparks in the asylum darkness. She followed close at his side, feeling their eyes on her body, coveting...she was the only woman confined there...and only because Chilton, attending her court case and conviction, had requested it. Nostalgia had led her to accept, rather than be sent to the nearest woman's prison.
When they reached the gates, Starlings muscles tensed, waiting for the attack, but none came. The she saw that the gaurds were slumped over in their seats, the doorman having slid down the wall, his legs out in front of him and his chin resting on his chest. She could not see if he was breathing, but there was a glisten of blood pooling between his legs, running in luxurious claret streams from his broken face. She did observe that most of the men were intact...they hadn't been bitten, mutilated, or...artistically arranged. She wasn't sure if this was caution on Dr. Lector's part, or merely utilitarianism.
He dragged Chilton's unconcious body through the gates and tossed him lightly at Clarice's feet. She leapt back and heard bones crunch. Chilton moaned, and saliva came to the corners of his thin lips. Dr. Lector was busying himself with re-locking the gates when Chilton's eyes suddenly flew up, his arms flailing against the cuffs. He tried to scream, but his brain did not connect the thought and he merely gargled. His bounds hands, stretched out over his head, came precariously close to Hannibal's ankle...he managed to get a grip, and Clarice kicked Chilton, hard, in the side of the head. He released Dr. Lector and slid back into a somewhat deeper unconciousness. Panting and shaking, Clarice looked up; Dr. Lector smiled at her and lightly stepped over the prone man. Picking up Chilton by the chained wrists, he slung him over his shoulder. He pulled a syringe out of a pocket that Clarice had not even noticed and gave Chilton a shot of something presumably sedative.
He might have done that earlier...Clarice thought with a twinge of irritation. Maybe he wanted to see how I'd react. She frowned. Dr. Lector turned to her.
Clarice watched the prisoners withdraw from the harsh, jaundiced hall-light, and from Dr. Lector; the inmates retreating into the shadows of their cells, eyes gleaming like frightened sparks in the asylum darkness. She followed close at his side, feeling their eyes on her body, coveting...she was the only woman confined there...and only because Chilton, attending her court case and conviction, had requested it. Nostalgia had led her to accept, rather than be sent to the nearest woman's prison.
When they reached the gates, Starlings muscles tensed, waiting for the attack, but none came. The she saw that the gaurds were slumped over in their seats, the doorman having slid down the wall, his legs out in front of him and his chin resting on his chest. She could not see if he was breathing, but there was a glisten of blood pooling between his legs, running in luxurious claret streams from his broken face. She did observe that most of the men were intact...they hadn't been bitten, mutilated, or...artistically arranged. She wasn't sure if this was caution on Dr. Lector's part, or merely utilitarianism.
He dragged Chilton's unconcious body through the gates and tossed him lightly at Clarice's feet. She leapt back and heard bones crunch. Chilton moaned, and saliva came to the corners of his thin lips. Dr. Lector was busying himself with re-locking the gates when Chilton's eyes suddenly flew up, his arms flailing against the cuffs. He tried to scream, but his brain did not connect the thought and he merely gargled. His bounds hands, stretched out over his head, came precariously close to Hannibal's ankle...he managed to get a grip, and Clarice kicked Chilton, hard, in the side of the head. He released Dr. Lector and slid back into a somewhat deeper unconciousness. Panting and shaking, Clarice looked up; Dr. Lector smiled at her and lightly stepped over the prone man. Picking up Chilton by the chained wrists, he slung him over his shoulder. He pulled a syringe out of a pocket that Clarice had not even noticed and gave Chilton a shot of something presumably sedative.
He might have done that earlier...Clarice thought with a twinge of irritation. Maybe he wanted to see how I'd react. She frowned. Dr. Lector turned to her.