Clarice found herself sitting dejectedly on the bed back in her hotel room, flipping through the channels discontentedly. Her expression remained the same through every channel. "Boring, boring, Martha Stewart - ugh! Boring, boring…"

She threw the remote down on the bed and turned her head away from the annoying noise. She found herself looking at the red dress in her closet. The words from Lecter's letter ran through her head: "I trust you know the place and dress code." She slid off the bed toward the dress and reached her hand slowly out to stroke the silken material. Well, I know the dress code…and then she remembered the drawing of her in the dress. She pulled the chair over from the desk and climbed on top of it to retrieve the sketch from the far corner where she had stowed it in her rush this morning. She stood on the chair contemplating it. She turned it over. There was nothing on the back. This is the place, definitely, but what time will he wait 'til? Am I too late? She could see the moon high in the sky on the picture and looked outside her window. Her inner voice said, The same phase and everything. I'd say you've got two hours. She checked her watch and snorted. Midnight, how appropriate.

She threw the picture on the bed and pulled the hanger with the dress on it out of the closet. You're crazy¸ the voice in her head lamented, as she hung the dress from the doorframe and then hopped in the shower.

Clarice Starling didn't think she'd ever taken a longer shower in her life. Every moment she took seemed to be hours to her. She stepped out of the shower, shivering and had to walk across the bathroom to find a towel, leaving a trail of water behind her at every step. She wrapped a towel around herself and then used the hotel provided hair dryer on her blonde locks. When it was mostly dry, she went out to study the drawing. Nothing too hard, she thought, and then managed to get her hair to perform the same way, adding the jewel encrusted barrettes. She then somehow managed to put some make up on her face without turning herself into Bozo the Clown. Her hose and shoes came next and finally she pulled the scarlet dress on.

It fit perfectly. It was tight around her bodice and hips then flared below. Lace ran around the top of the dress, which was very low and then fell off at the sides to wrap around her the middle of her lower arm. The red gloves traveled nearly to her shoulders before stopping. Once she put the gloves on, she regretted it and took them off to put in the earrings and latch the necklace. Replacing them, she managed to put the bracelet on, thinking that out of everything, that took the longest time to do. She considered putting her revolver into the purse. It would fit. But do you really want to show him hostility? He seems peaceable at least. He would consider the weapon rude. She put her cell phone, some money, and her key card in the purse instead. Now for the hard part, she thought.

Clarice peered out into the hallway through the peephole, and then without caution opened the door, a second later, she shut it none too quietly, while staying herself inside the room. She listened carefully. Nothing stirred in Graham's room. He must have thought her escapades were done for the night. She even thought she heard him snore lightly. She opened the door again and closed it as silently as possible this time. She stood in the hall, leaning against her door, thinking how her breathing was louder than the door could ever been. She expected Graham to swing open his door any second and confront her about where she was planning on going. She quietly moved down the hall and struggled down the stairs in her heels to the floor below, not wanting the elevator to bing on her floor. Now she hit the button and waited patiently for the elevator to come for her, half expecting Graham to be on it. To her relief, there was no one on the elevator and she punched the button for the lobby. She tapped her foot as she went down, impatiently. The doors swung open and again, Clarice breathed her relief not to see Graham.

Outside, she hailed a taxi, and climbed in, the driver barely giving a look to her appearance. "Could you take me to the Belvedere, please?"

"I'm sorry, signora, it is closed this time of night."

"Oh," Clarice said. "I know. Could you drop me off there anyway? It's very important. I'll pay you extra." Clarice was desperate at this point. She had to get there and she knew she wouldn't make it more than a few blocks in those heels.

The taxi driver studied her closely, this time taking in her dress and jewelry. "As you wish, signora," he said, "but you're going to be disappointed."

Clarice smiled to herself. "Somehow… I doubt that," she whispered, as the cab rolled down the street.