Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Lalalalalala

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Dear Dr Lecter,

I know that you're sorry. You're so polite, you always say so, regardless of whether you actually are, but I do think that you are this time, although it might just be because I'm naive.

Piano lessons. After what happened, you're still talking about piano lessons? I can't believe it. However, Saturdays would be good, as is three, but the problem is I highly doubt I'll have any time to practice. I'll try, but it probably won't work.

How do I feel about you? Well, I am always eager for to learn, and I can't help learning from you, but, at least when I'm not really angry at you, I do regard you as a friend. Why are you asking, though? How do you think of me? Actually, your exact words were How exactly do you feel about me? So, how exactly do you feel about me? And no games, Doctor. I'm serious.

Good Bye,

Special Agent Clarice Starling

Ps. Don't worry, I won't involve anyone else. I was really upset when I wrote that and now I've calmed down. And I'm not stupid. I know I'd loose my job.