Chapter 10:: Sleepy Time/Discourtesy is Unspeakably Ugly to Me
When the car pulled into a Mobile station by Ithica College in New York State, it was nearly three in the morning. Filling up the gas tank, and then going into the station to buy a cappuccino, Hannibal thought about the radio he'd been listening to. All night, he had kept it on a news station. So far, there was absolutely no news about a former FBI agent gone missing, or a 'criminally insane' fugitive that had been spotted in Connecticut. That was a good sign.
Returning to the car, he took several minutes to watch Clarice sleep. Hours ago, she had pulled her coat off, and unbuckled her seat belt. Reclining the seat, she'd fallen asleep under the leather coat he'd placed over her like a blanket. Simply enjoying the view of her sleeping soundly, he'd driven without nodding off to the droning newscasters voice.
Watching her sleep was something Hannibal had only done twice. The first time had been in her apartment, days before Chesapeake. But at that time, he'd been in a slight hurry. The only time he'd had to admire her form on the living room chair was when he'd lit the candles on the coffee table. The second occasion had been more of a pain and drug induced sleep. Not the kind that completely relaxed her entire body.
Now, watching her sleep, there was no indication that Clarice would be waking any time soon. Hannibal certainly didn't want to disturb what must have been the first good nights sleep she'd had in a very long time. Yet after years of longing, he could help but reach out to caress her cheek now that he was given the chance. As the back of his fingers stroked the soft skin, Clarice hummed in pleasure, and tilted her head towards his tender touch. She was stirring from sleep, and he paused in his caress before pulling away; torn between keeping contact with her flesh to his, and waking her.
"Where…?" Her voice was slurred with sleep. Hannibal quickly lifted his hand once more, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
"Go back to sleep, little Starling." He said in a soft, even voice. "It isn't time for you to wake up yet. I just stopped to stretch my legs."
She hummed again in what sounded like it would've been 'alright' if verbalized. Then, snuggling down under his leather coat, she relaxed once more. Hannibal smiled as she settled back into sleep, and turned to close his car door. Yet he saw someone standing there in his way. It was the man whom had taken his money in the station.
"Can I help you?" Hannibal asked irritably.
"Yeah, you can." The young man replied sharply. "You only gave me a twenty. You owe me forty bucks."
'Do I, now?' Hannibal thought to himself with a scowl.
"I do believe you're mistaken." He replied in a steely, yet soft voice. "Do you want to see my receipt?" He reached into his pocket, pulled it out, and turned on the light above his head. He looked at it briefly, saw that it read he'd given the man an even twenty dollars and received no change in return, as the gas and cappuccino had come up to twenty dollars flat. Then, he handed it to the man with two fingers. "As you can see, I am the one who is right."
"You owe me forty dollars." He insisted.
"Really?" 'Leave it to you to ruin my good mood.' Sighing heavily, Hannibal stood up out of the car. "Here… let me get some more money out of my daughters purse." He motioned over his shoulder to the sleeping Clarice, and then reached into the back seat compartment where he kept his harpy. 'I really didn't want to do this. I did promise Clarice… but then again… why should she have to know?'
Then, an idea struck him, and he smiled. Reaching over the back seat, he touched Clarice's shoulder, gently shaking her into a state of semi-wakefulness.
"Darling, this man is trying to rip me off." He stated when she looked to him questioningly. Her blue eyes turned towards the man standing by the driver side door, and then narrowed. "Tell him what you do for a living, dearest."
"I work for the FBI." She stated softly, without hesitation. "And I don't like it when someone tries to pull of a prank with someone who has an IQ of at least three times their own."
"Bullshit." The man spat. "I'm not ripping anyone off, and no one has an IQ that high."
"Sir, you're being rude." Clarice noted, her eyes looking to Hannibal a bit warily. She knew exactly what he was in the back seat for. She knew the harpy was there. Yet he looked back at her steadily.
"I have an incredible dislike for rude people." He agreed. "Now, if you don't let us go, I shall have to let my daughter make the right contacts to see you either fired or arrested. I have the receipt, and unless you've thrown it out or destroyed it, I believe you have a copy of what I've bought. Don't mess with us, Sir."
The man growled softly, and went to round the back door to the Taurus. Hannibal stood out of the car quickly, harpy in hand. The man saw it, and his eyes bulged.
"You really shouldn't try to mess with someone you don't know." He told the man, who began backing up. "Now… you made a mistake. Did you not."
The man lifted his hands in surrender.
"Sure buddy… sure… whatever you say."
"Thank you." He held onto the harpy as he climbed into the front seat, closed the door, and buckled up. As he turned the key in the ignition, he rolled down his drivers side window to look up at the man, who was still backing off. "You have a good evening." Then, he peeled out of a gas station for the second time that night.
Clarice sat in the passenger seat, staring at Hannibal for a long time. It was several minutes that he tried to ignore her piercing and scolding eyes. Yet her gaze was the only one that could phase him. He caught himself glancing to her every few seconds, waiting for her to say something. Yet finally, she just let out a long and heavy sigh, turning to look straight ahead of them.
"You would've done it, wouldn't you?" She whispered.
"Now, Clarice. You know better than that." He stated. "I might've made sure he let us leave, but I would've left him alive." Hannibal chuckled softly, and reached out to touch her knee. "Don't worry, Clarice. I told you. That's all over with now. No more of that."
"All right…" She sighed, closing her eyes. "Hannibal… please… I can't stand that mans voice anymore. Can't you put something into the cassette player?"
"There's Mozart in the glove compartment." He indicated the glove box with a nod of his head. Clarice moaned as she had to sit up and get out the tapes, and then put them into the cassette player. She sat perched on the seat for a long moment to adjust the volume, and then leaned back, once again falling asleep.
"Sleep well, Clarice." Hannibal entreated her gently. "We have a long ways to go yet."
When the car pulled into a Mobile station by Ithica College in New York State, it was nearly three in the morning. Filling up the gas tank, and then going into the station to buy a cappuccino, Hannibal thought about the radio he'd been listening to. All night, he had kept it on a news station. So far, there was absolutely no news about a former FBI agent gone missing, or a 'criminally insane' fugitive that had been spotted in Connecticut. That was a good sign.
Returning to the car, he took several minutes to watch Clarice sleep. Hours ago, she had pulled her coat off, and unbuckled her seat belt. Reclining the seat, she'd fallen asleep under the leather coat he'd placed over her like a blanket. Simply enjoying the view of her sleeping soundly, he'd driven without nodding off to the droning newscasters voice.
Watching her sleep was something Hannibal had only done twice. The first time had been in her apartment, days before Chesapeake. But at that time, he'd been in a slight hurry. The only time he'd had to admire her form on the living room chair was when he'd lit the candles on the coffee table. The second occasion had been more of a pain and drug induced sleep. Not the kind that completely relaxed her entire body.
Now, watching her sleep, there was no indication that Clarice would be waking any time soon. Hannibal certainly didn't want to disturb what must have been the first good nights sleep she'd had in a very long time. Yet after years of longing, he could help but reach out to caress her cheek now that he was given the chance. As the back of his fingers stroked the soft skin, Clarice hummed in pleasure, and tilted her head towards his tender touch. She was stirring from sleep, and he paused in his caress before pulling away; torn between keeping contact with her flesh to his, and waking her.
"Where…?" Her voice was slurred with sleep. Hannibal quickly lifted his hand once more, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
"Go back to sleep, little Starling." He said in a soft, even voice. "It isn't time for you to wake up yet. I just stopped to stretch my legs."
She hummed again in what sounded like it would've been 'alright' if verbalized. Then, snuggling down under his leather coat, she relaxed once more. Hannibal smiled as she settled back into sleep, and turned to close his car door. Yet he saw someone standing there in his way. It was the man whom had taken his money in the station.
"Can I help you?" Hannibal asked irritably.
"Yeah, you can." The young man replied sharply. "You only gave me a twenty. You owe me forty bucks."
'Do I, now?' Hannibal thought to himself with a scowl.
"I do believe you're mistaken." He replied in a steely, yet soft voice. "Do you want to see my receipt?" He reached into his pocket, pulled it out, and turned on the light above his head. He looked at it briefly, saw that it read he'd given the man an even twenty dollars and received no change in return, as the gas and cappuccino had come up to twenty dollars flat. Then, he handed it to the man with two fingers. "As you can see, I am the one who is right."
"You owe me forty dollars." He insisted.
"Really?" 'Leave it to you to ruin my good mood.' Sighing heavily, Hannibal stood up out of the car. "Here… let me get some more money out of my daughters purse." He motioned over his shoulder to the sleeping Clarice, and then reached into the back seat compartment where he kept his harpy. 'I really didn't want to do this. I did promise Clarice… but then again… why should she have to know?'
Then, an idea struck him, and he smiled. Reaching over the back seat, he touched Clarice's shoulder, gently shaking her into a state of semi-wakefulness.
"Darling, this man is trying to rip me off." He stated when she looked to him questioningly. Her blue eyes turned towards the man standing by the driver side door, and then narrowed. "Tell him what you do for a living, dearest."
"I work for the FBI." She stated softly, without hesitation. "And I don't like it when someone tries to pull of a prank with someone who has an IQ of at least three times their own."
"Bullshit." The man spat. "I'm not ripping anyone off, and no one has an IQ that high."
"Sir, you're being rude." Clarice noted, her eyes looking to Hannibal a bit warily. She knew exactly what he was in the back seat for. She knew the harpy was there. Yet he looked back at her steadily.
"I have an incredible dislike for rude people." He agreed. "Now, if you don't let us go, I shall have to let my daughter make the right contacts to see you either fired or arrested. I have the receipt, and unless you've thrown it out or destroyed it, I believe you have a copy of what I've bought. Don't mess with us, Sir."
The man growled softly, and went to round the back door to the Taurus. Hannibal stood out of the car quickly, harpy in hand. The man saw it, and his eyes bulged.
"You really shouldn't try to mess with someone you don't know." He told the man, who began backing up. "Now… you made a mistake. Did you not."
The man lifted his hands in surrender.
"Sure buddy… sure… whatever you say."
"Thank you." He held onto the harpy as he climbed into the front seat, closed the door, and buckled up. As he turned the key in the ignition, he rolled down his drivers side window to look up at the man, who was still backing off. "You have a good evening." Then, he peeled out of a gas station for the second time that night.
Clarice sat in the passenger seat, staring at Hannibal for a long time. It was several minutes that he tried to ignore her piercing and scolding eyes. Yet her gaze was the only one that could phase him. He caught himself glancing to her every few seconds, waiting for her to say something. Yet finally, she just let out a long and heavy sigh, turning to look straight ahead of them.
"You would've done it, wouldn't you?" She whispered.
"Now, Clarice. You know better than that." He stated. "I might've made sure he let us leave, but I would've left him alive." Hannibal chuckled softly, and reached out to touch her knee. "Don't worry, Clarice. I told you. That's all over with now. No more of that."
"All right…" She sighed, closing her eyes. "Hannibal… please… I can't stand that mans voice anymore. Can't you put something into the cassette player?"
"There's Mozart in the glove compartment." He indicated the glove box with a nod of his head. Clarice moaned as she had to sit up and get out the tapes, and then put them into the cassette player. She sat perched on the seat for a long moment to adjust the volume, and then leaned back, once again falling asleep.
"Sleep well, Clarice." Hannibal entreated her gently. "We have a long ways to go yet."