For The Peace
Chapter 1: A Small Piece Of Mind
Disclaimer: I do not own Dr. Hannibal Lecter, I do not own Officer Clarice Starling, I do not own anything or one of Thomas Harris's characters. You'll know what I own in later chapters, but I'm not going to tell you now.
The café is quaint, and it tries to have a European style about it. It succeeds in that, as most of its waiters are from European cities, and the owner has always kept his claim to being 'One place in the sun for all.' There are only a few waiters that are home-grown. One of them is clearing a table of its white plates and happens to notice a man walking towards the café. He seems to walk casually, but it is belied by an air of experience and indeed, some expectance. The waiter clears up quickly and goes inside to tell the others that 'The man' is here again
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Mr. Lecter pulls a white plastic chair out from in front of him and sits down slowly, as if it was undignified to sit abruptly or faster than he did. He looks relaxed, sitting as comfortably as is afforded by the seat, and dressed in a long brown jacket, with a white short sleeved shirt and black trousers on. A plain baseball cap tops his nearly black hair. His hair is streaked with natural auburn highlights, and, on a day when the sun is high and the wind is calm, it shimmers like a goldfish does when the light catches it.
He sits and waits. The waitresses - and a few of the waiters - are surreptitiously glancing over to the table that he waits at. Wondering if they might start a small conversation with him, and, as all humans are prone to do, they wonder if he is waiting for someone, or simply passing the time in the open air.
One waiter in particular, a handsome Italian by the nickname of Des, wants to become friends and maybe something more with this elusive and certainly desirable man. He walks around to the table with his notepad out in front of him, wanting to be attentive - more so than he does for most of his clientele. As he walks up to the table the man turns. Des is left feeling x-rayed, and cold, colder than he should feel, he thinks. Des lifts his eyes to meet the mans and is struck by the thought that he has just been calculated. He sees red pinpoints, and maroon pupils. Hard, hard as diamonds, he thinks. The maroon eyes stay with him for a moment, then leave.
And suddenly Des is glad. The man looks back across the table, across the front of the café, and his whole body is still. Des has already moved away, and is not telling the others why he stopped in the middle of the walk to the mans table.
He is quiet, and does not wish to relive the experience to anybody.
Mr. Lecter watches as a person walks to the café, a woman, who has auburn hair like the streaks in his, and black highlights like his hair. He watches thoughtfully as she sits down, eyes straying to the place where her inside pocket would be. She looks at him, evaluating, her maroon eyes spinning as she watches him place a piece of paper on the table. He pushes it carefully over to her, fingers pressuring the paper, telling it to not blow away. As he moves his fingers off the wind picks up slightly. She moves her hand over it and stills it. Mr. Lecter looks knowingly at the woman.
She reads silently, and sits still. Her hand shakes as she reads the piece of paper.
She looks at him, and they stay like that for a few moments, doing battle with each other's wills. Mr. Lecter knows that she won't break, but he likes watching her struggle to maintain control.
Mr. Lecter keeps her gaze for a few minutes, but cannot bear it any longer than that. He looks down at the paper on its front and then watches in silence as the woman's hand shakes over the top of it.
He smiles at her.
This was going to be fun.
A/N: I do mean Mr. Lecter and not Dr. Lecter, I assure you, as he is…well, who do you think he is?
Tavener