I hate this grammatical error fixer thingy. It's like "You know what? SCREW
YOU!!!" Hehe. Anyway, hmmm, I can smell my dinner, yum! So I'll start this
chapter.. Ah * sighs *
Disclaimer- Virginia "Ginny" Starling, Malif Dyberg, Marie Seller, Nicholas Burn, Jackob Moorland, etc. The original *and best* characters are that of the brilliant Thomas Harris. [Thank goodness for you sir!]
Rating- R for language, content and sexual situations/talk
A/N- We're having lasagna for din-din! Yummy!
Song- "Shell of a Man" The Juliana Theory (Yes! Again!)
Chapter 4
Clarice and Ginny sat eating breakfast. Ginny had driven herself to Church service, while Clarice stayed at home and cooked an amazing breakfast of sausage, pancakes (and chocolate chips for Ginny's sake), bacon, and hash browns. Though Ginny had been late coming home from Church, Clarice already had the house smelling amazing.
Ginny grabbed a pancake off the main plate with her fingers, and Clarice sighed.
"What?" Ginny said, laughing as she grabbed the syrup.
"It's called a spatula you dork, that's how you pick up a pancake, now I'm going to get aids or something from you," Clarice joked, as she threw a piece of her strawberry at Ginny, who picked it up and ate it.
"I don't have aids," Ginny laughed, as Clarice winked.
Ginny put some pancake on her fork, and took a bite.
"I got this uh [swallow] email last night, from someone, about Mr. Lecter, it said where he had last been spotted, with his accomplice," Ginny said, trying to keep the topic on Hannibal.
"Jackob Moorland, eh?" Clarice said, not looking up, and taking a drink of her milk.
"Yeah, that's it. Anyway, it said the place he had last been spotted was Asia. Japan I think it was, why would he do that?" Ginny said, eating a piece of her sausage after chasing it around on her plate.
"He tends to leave right after he's caused controversy. For example, he caused big trouble with the police on my first assignment. He fled to Jamaica. He ended up in Florence, Italy. There he killed a detective once he had found out who Lecter was. He returned here, and we just happened to encounter each other. After he killed an old co-worked of mine, he obviously fled to Japan. I wonder where he is now." Clarice said, swallowing nervously.
"How is he, I mean, really, how is he?" Ginny said, leaning forward towards her aunt.
She smiled, "He's a gentleman, no doubt. But, an offensive gentleman to put it in the slightest. He has the manners of a king. He has a sly way of getting into your mind, and making you think something you'd never really decide to think. He can disgust you with his mouth, or his stories. He is an amazing reviewer of case files, no doubt. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. No doubt he is a brilliant man. A-ah," She paused, and turned from Ginny's searching face.
"What else! What else!" Ginny said, rocking on the bar stool.
"He's got to be twenty years my senior, but miraculously, he's. he's attractive," Clarice said, admitting that to herself for even the first time.
"Gee, took you long enough to realize that," Ginny laughed, but Clarice kept her studying face.
"He's quite impressive. I-I enjoyed the man's company whenever I could," Clarice said, continuing to admit things she had been holding inside.
"Do you reckon he feels the same way about you?" Ginny giggled a nervous giggle, and steadied her chair.
"I pathetically hope not. Gin, even if we were both madly, insanely head over heels for each other, which we are not," she lied, but continued, "What is there for us to do? It's not like we can get married, it's not like we can have children, or live a normal life. He ruined the one for himself a good decade or so ago. It was his decision and he was the who fucked it up."
"I think he's deathly romantic, Auntie. Clarice," Ginny said, and Clarice looked up to see he blush.
"Really? Are you intrigued, Gin?" Clarice said, wanting to hear Ginny's opinion.
"Infatuated. Fancied. Name it romantically, I am. Why am I though? If he's twenty years your senior, he's at least forty years my own. I just find the whole atmosphere around him, and what he does, and what he's done sadistic. And for some damn reason, I love it. Plus, I read some of the letters he sent you, and he writes so romantically that it amazes even myself. And I do despise poetry, and you know that," Ginny said, pushing her maroon hair out of her face.
Clarice grinned. "It seems we have discovered another thing we have in common,"
Ginny's face broke with a wide smile, and she quickly continued eating, the whole time a smile upon her face.
* *** **** *** *** ******* * * * *
Albany International Airport- Sunday afternoon
Lecter and Jackob set off from the airport, their belongings stashed in the backseat. Lecter was satisfied that someone would get home, to find the body of the attendant, stashed in their luggage.
"Where are we heading? Do you know yet Lecter?" Jackob said, pulling onto the freeway.
"I say we drive cautiously past Chilton's place and make the bastard suspicious." Lecter joked, pulling out his sunglasses again, to deflect the sun for real this time.
"Funny. Really, where should we head off to? There's a junction only a couple of miles up the way, so we gotta think fast," Jackob said, stepping on the gas.
"Perhaps, we should pay the Bureau a little visit. Don't you think? Then they'll get all stirred up and send Agent Starling on my backside. Then I can get to her niece, and make Clarice beg for mercy," Lecter said, pointing to the junction sign.
"Take left,"
"And what am I to do? Wait around or something?" Jackob said, speeding up, almost 15+ the speed limit.
"I'm dropping you off in New York City, you'll find Marylyn Station there, and she'll house you, just say it's for Captain Myelin, truths?" Lecter said, looking out at the pathetic landscape.
"Captain Myelin?" Jackob repeated nervously.
"I posed as a airplane captain once. Me and Ms. Marylyn had a little fling on board. I had no feelings for her, but I knew that she'd come in handy sometime. Go it? Marylyn Station and Captain Myelin." Lecter said, gnawing at Jackob's stupidity.
"Got it, sir. How old is she?"
"About thirty-five. Only a couple of years plus you, but you'll do fine. She's a little slut though, slept around in her teenage years, and early twenties. She probably has herpes, or some other genital disease. Deny her fuck requests, ok? She'll piss off if you do, but she'll treat you more like a man then a boy if you do," Lecter said, grabbing a U.S.A Today off the backseat of their new car.
"Oh look at this, a new killer. What ever happened to my headlines?" Joked Lecter, as he studied the front page.
"What's happened?" Jackob said, keeping his eyes on the road, but focusing his hearing to Lecter.
Lecter propped the paper on his knee, " 'Another murder in the Rosaire killings. Sixteen year old singer, Lillian Madison, of Marks burg Arts Academy, was found dead, wearing an old 1700's corset and dress from a schools play production months ago. They believe the clothes change was post-mortem. Lillian had a beautiful voice, and would have been on the way to the Juliette, in New York City, if she hadn't met this tragic end,' Ah. This killer was deprived of beautiful, young women has a boy. See here Jackob, he chose a pale complexed blond, with a beautiful voice. She perhaps resembled someone he wanted in his earlier years. That son of a bitch 'Rosaire' isn't very creative.
Jackob turned his head slightly, to glance at the front of the page. His eyes met the picture of Lillian Madison. He pulled over to the side, and grabbed the page from Lecter, who looked shocked.
"Fucking hell!" Swore Jackob intensely, "She was a fucking student of a fucking girl I had dated in fucking high school!"
"Settle down, Moorland, before you pop your already small brain. Now, start over. Loose the obscenities," Lecter said calmly.
"Miss. Lemoore, she's a young teacher at Marks burg. She's got to be only twenty-five or so. She is an amazing actress, but she worked there, and I had met Lillian Madison."
"You fucked her didn't you, Jackob?" Lecter said, grabbing the paper back from him, and pointing to the road.
"Probably right before I fled to Japan, when you were on every wanted list. Allison Lemoore introduced me to Lillian, and I have no idea how, but Lillian got my phone number. And she would live exotic messages on my machine. So, one day, I did want any sane man would do. I called her over, and we had sex, that easy." Jackob said, pulling back onto the road, as Lecter's head nodded.
"I see, I see," Lecter said quietly.
"You know how you said that this new killer wasn't very creative. By the Rosaire, and everything?" Jackob said, matching Lecter's silence.
".Yes?"
"Rosaire is creative. Do you know what it means?"
"Should I Jackob? I didn't major in idiot during university."
"It means, 'to breed a centurious artist,' basically, the killer must be having the girls dress up like a centurious artist, treating them like one, then killing them, raping them, and taking the most desired body part that the Rosaire keeps as a keepsake."
"I didn't major in sexual oddities," Lecter said off-handedly, his mind more focused on Clarice then Jackob's bullshitting.
"I'm going to take a nap, if you don't mind. And you won't. Wake me when we arrive," Lecter said, tilting his hat over his face.
"Yes Lecter," Jackob said sadly, and kept his entire focus on the road.
* **** ** ** ** *
Hehe. That's it . I'm spent. Next chapter!
Disclaimer- Virginia "Ginny" Starling, Malif Dyberg, Marie Seller, Nicholas Burn, Jackob Moorland, etc. The original *and best* characters are that of the brilliant Thomas Harris. [Thank goodness for you sir!]
Rating- R for language, content and sexual situations/talk
A/N- We're having lasagna for din-din! Yummy!
Song- "Shell of a Man" The Juliana Theory (Yes! Again!)
Chapter 4
Clarice and Ginny sat eating breakfast. Ginny had driven herself to Church service, while Clarice stayed at home and cooked an amazing breakfast of sausage, pancakes (and chocolate chips for Ginny's sake), bacon, and hash browns. Though Ginny had been late coming home from Church, Clarice already had the house smelling amazing.
Ginny grabbed a pancake off the main plate with her fingers, and Clarice sighed.
"What?" Ginny said, laughing as she grabbed the syrup.
"It's called a spatula you dork, that's how you pick up a pancake, now I'm going to get aids or something from you," Clarice joked, as she threw a piece of her strawberry at Ginny, who picked it up and ate it.
"I don't have aids," Ginny laughed, as Clarice winked.
Ginny put some pancake on her fork, and took a bite.
"I got this uh [swallow] email last night, from someone, about Mr. Lecter, it said where he had last been spotted, with his accomplice," Ginny said, trying to keep the topic on Hannibal.
"Jackob Moorland, eh?" Clarice said, not looking up, and taking a drink of her milk.
"Yeah, that's it. Anyway, it said the place he had last been spotted was Asia. Japan I think it was, why would he do that?" Ginny said, eating a piece of her sausage after chasing it around on her plate.
"He tends to leave right after he's caused controversy. For example, he caused big trouble with the police on my first assignment. He fled to Jamaica. He ended up in Florence, Italy. There he killed a detective once he had found out who Lecter was. He returned here, and we just happened to encounter each other. After he killed an old co-worked of mine, he obviously fled to Japan. I wonder where he is now." Clarice said, swallowing nervously.
"How is he, I mean, really, how is he?" Ginny said, leaning forward towards her aunt.
She smiled, "He's a gentleman, no doubt. But, an offensive gentleman to put it in the slightest. He has the manners of a king. He has a sly way of getting into your mind, and making you think something you'd never really decide to think. He can disgust you with his mouth, or his stories. He is an amazing reviewer of case files, no doubt. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. No doubt he is a brilliant man. A-ah," She paused, and turned from Ginny's searching face.
"What else! What else!" Ginny said, rocking on the bar stool.
"He's got to be twenty years my senior, but miraculously, he's. he's attractive," Clarice said, admitting that to herself for even the first time.
"Gee, took you long enough to realize that," Ginny laughed, but Clarice kept her studying face.
"He's quite impressive. I-I enjoyed the man's company whenever I could," Clarice said, continuing to admit things she had been holding inside.
"Do you reckon he feels the same way about you?" Ginny giggled a nervous giggle, and steadied her chair.
"I pathetically hope not. Gin, even if we were both madly, insanely head over heels for each other, which we are not," she lied, but continued, "What is there for us to do? It's not like we can get married, it's not like we can have children, or live a normal life. He ruined the one for himself a good decade or so ago. It was his decision and he was the who fucked it up."
"I think he's deathly romantic, Auntie. Clarice," Ginny said, and Clarice looked up to see he blush.
"Really? Are you intrigued, Gin?" Clarice said, wanting to hear Ginny's opinion.
"Infatuated. Fancied. Name it romantically, I am. Why am I though? If he's twenty years your senior, he's at least forty years my own. I just find the whole atmosphere around him, and what he does, and what he's done sadistic. And for some damn reason, I love it. Plus, I read some of the letters he sent you, and he writes so romantically that it amazes even myself. And I do despise poetry, and you know that," Ginny said, pushing her maroon hair out of her face.
Clarice grinned. "It seems we have discovered another thing we have in common,"
Ginny's face broke with a wide smile, and she quickly continued eating, the whole time a smile upon her face.
* *** **** *** *** ******* * * * *
Albany International Airport- Sunday afternoon
Lecter and Jackob set off from the airport, their belongings stashed in the backseat. Lecter was satisfied that someone would get home, to find the body of the attendant, stashed in their luggage.
"Where are we heading? Do you know yet Lecter?" Jackob said, pulling onto the freeway.
"I say we drive cautiously past Chilton's place and make the bastard suspicious." Lecter joked, pulling out his sunglasses again, to deflect the sun for real this time.
"Funny. Really, where should we head off to? There's a junction only a couple of miles up the way, so we gotta think fast," Jackob said, stepping on the gas.
"Perhaps, we should pay the Bureau a little visit. Don't you think? Then they'll get all stirred up and send Agent Starling on my backside. Then I can get to her niece, and make Clarice beg for mercy," Lecter said, pointing to the junction sign.
"Take left,"
"And what am I to do? Wait around or something?" Jackob said, speeding up, almost 15+ the speed limit.
"I'm dropping you off in New York City, you'll find Marylyn Station there, and she'll house you, just say it's for Captain Myelin, truths?" Lecter said, looking out at the pathetic landscape.
"Captain Myelin?" Jackob repeated nervously.
"I posed as a airplane captain once. Me and Ms. Marylyn had a little fling on board. I had no feelings for her, but I knew that she'd come in handy sometime. Go it? Marylyn Station and Captain Myelin." Lecter said, gnawing at Jackob's stupidity.
"Got it, sir. How old is she?"
"About thirty-five. Only a couple of years plus you, but you'll do fine. She's a little slut though, slept around in her teenage years, and early twenties. She probably has herpes, or some other genital disease. Deny her fuck requests, ok? She'll piss off if you do, but she'll treat you more like a man then a boy if you do," Lecter said, grabbing a U.S.A Today off the backseat of their new car.
"Oh look at this, a new killer. What ever happened to my headlines?" Joked Lecter, as he studied the front page.
"What's happened?" Jackob said, keeping his eyes on the road, but focusing his hearing to Lecter.
Lecter propped the paper on his knee, " 'Another murder in the Rosaire killings. Sixteen year old singer, Lillian Madison, of Marks burg Arts Academy, was found dead, wearing an old 1700's corset and dress from a schools play production months ago. They believe the clothes change was post-mortem. Lillian had a beautiful voice, and would have been on the way to the Juliette, in New York City, if she hadn't met this tragic end,' Ah. This killer was deprived of beautiful, young women has a boy. See here Jackob, he chose a pale complexed blond, with a beautiful voice. She perhaps resembled someone he wanted in his earlier years. That son of a bitch 'Rosaire' isn't very creative.
Jackob turned his head slightly, to glance at the front of the page. His eyes met the picture of Lillian Madison. He pulled over to the side, and grabbed the page from Lecter, who looked shocked.
"Fucking hell!" Swore Jackob intensely, "She was a fucking student of a fucking girl I had dated in fucking high school!"
"Settle down, Moorland, before you pop your already small brain. Now, start over. Loose the obscenities," Lecter said calmly.
"Miss. Lemoore, she's a young teacher at Marks burg. She's got to be only twenty-five or so. She is an amazing actress, but she worked there, and I had met Lillian Madison."
"You fucked her didn't you, Jackob?" Lecter said, grabbing the paper back from him, and pointing to the road.
"Probably right before I fled to Japan, when you were on every wanted list. Allison Lemoore introduced me to Lillian, and I have no idea how, but Lillian got my phone number. And she would live exotic messages on my machine. So, one day, I did want any sane man would do. I called her over, and we had sex, that easy." Jackob said, pulling back onto the road, as Lecter's head nodded.
"I see, I see," Lecter said quietly.
"You know how you said that this new killer wasn't very creative. By the Rosaire, and everything?" Jackob said, matching Lecter's silence.
".Yes?"
"Rosaire is creative. Do you know what it means?"
"Should I Jackob? I didn't major in idiot during university."
"It means, 'to breed a centurious artist,' basically, the killer must be having the girls dress up like a centurious artist, treating them like one, then killing them, raping them, and taking the most desired body part that the Rosaire keeps as a keepsake."
"I didn't major in sexual oddities," Lecter said off-handedly, his mind more focused on Clarice then Jackob's bullshitting.
"I'm going to take a nap, if you don't mind. And you won't. Wake me when we arrive," Lecter said, tilting his hat over his face.
"Yes Lecter," Jackob said sadly, and kept his entire focus on the road.
* **** ** ** ** *
Hehe. That's it . I'm spent. Next chapter!