Clarice lay back on the bed and reached for the tray. Selecting the most heavily iced doughnut in the box and loading it with pickles she sat back to read the note.
Written in a fine copperplate hand it read:
There was a little starling
It flew far from the nest
The evil little tomcat
Ripped open its brown breast
Shuddering Clarice pushed the note aside and got to work on her doughnuts and pickles. When they were all gone she looked longingly at the bottle of JD. It would be a shame to waste it she thought. Heaving her large weight up from the bed she padded over to the little bathroom with the bottle.
Taking the glass from the side she poured a tiny bit of JD into the glass and watered it down severely. In the end it was more the colour of water than the normal dark brown.
"Here goes nothing." she said out loud and downed the murky liquid. It tasted like pond water. Spitting the foul tasting liquid into the sink Clarice glared at the bottle. Smelling the supposed Jack Daniels she recoiled at the smell... it WAS pond water.
"Hannibal Lecter. You are a dead man." She spat.
Walking back into the room Ex-special agent Starling changed from the bathrobe into a set of rather more acceptable clothes to go and find a receptionist.
The blonde, bubble-gum chewing receptionist was busying filing her nails when Clarice came into the foyer. She thought of what name the doctor might have used, he'd have to be completely stupid to use his real name.
"Do you know what room Dr Chilton is in? She questioned, a slight edge of agitation to her voice. The receptionist clacked about on the keyboard. Checking the results of her search, she shook her head.
"Sorry, we don't have anyone here under that name."
"Lecter?"
The receptionist, obviously not knowing WHO doctor Lecter was, clicked and clacked about again... "Nope." was the reply. After going through a long list of surnames including Krendler, Noonan, Pearsall and Crawford, she tried her own surname as a last ditch effort, "Starling?"
"Yes we do have a Dr Starling, Henry Starling," the receptionist seemed to feel the need to publicly swoon, Clarice rolled her eyes, "He's in room number 967. Floor 9." The receptionist said hurriedly and got back to her nails and gum.
Thanking the receptionist Clarice waddled down the hallway towards the elevator. Once inside she pressed the button for floor 9. On the journey up she thought about why she and Hannibal were getting a divorce.
*~*~*~*
"For Gods sake Hannibal! It's just a lamb chop! So it's a bit tough. It's still edible isn't it?" she remembered screeching at him when he had complained about her cooking one day. "Despite what you may think they don't teach you how to cook at the FBI. Since you're so good at cooking maybe you should make dinner!"
*~*~*~*
However that wasn't why they had split up. Though it had contributed. Hannibal's eating was another thing that hadn't helped.
*~*~*~*
"If you must do that don't you ever bring it any where near me! What do you think our neighbours think of you coming home from doing god only knows what your mouth covered in blood. At least wipe your mouth before you come home."
*~*~*~*
As two businessmen got into the lift at the third floor, Clarice started thinking of where it had started going downhill. The honeymoon. They had been staying in a small hotel not far from the Eiffel Tower. The couple had the money to stay in the largest hotel in Paris but Hannibal had put his foot down there.
*~*~*~*
"If we stayed in a larger hotel then we stand a greater chance of being recognised by people." When Clarice had started to react he said "American tourists stay in big flashy hotels to show that they can afford it." So after a large argument she had consented to stay in the smaller hotel. It had put a dark cloud over the rest of the honeymoon but nothing was said.
*~*~*~*
Feeling the baby kick Clarice smiled. There was one thing they agreed on. The child hadn't been planned but it was what was wanted.
When they reached the ninth floor Clarice got out and found the right room. Assuming her best "hands up" face she knocked hard on the door. "It's open, my dear." Came a smooth voice from the room. Swallowing her pride she walked in.
A few moments later screaming could be heard from the end of the hallway. A couple hurried back to their room and a bellboy dropped the cases he was carrying.
In the room the argument was getting violent. Clarice had picked up a table lamp and was waving it wildly. Hannibal however was sitting in a chair quite unperturbed by a pregnant woman waving a lamp in his face.
"Have you quite finished Clarice?" he said when she paused for breath. Clarice threw him a stony glare and flopped down on to the bed opposite him, still holding the lamp.
"You are a complete bastard." She said panting slightly. "What did you do that to my JD for?"
"It's not good for a woman in your... condition." He said, choosing his words wisely since her hormones had decided to go A.W.O.L.
"MY CONDITION?! Just WHO was it that put me in this 'condition' in the first place exactly?" Clarice ranted at him, gripping the lamp so tightly, her knuckles were white.
"Why, that would be me." the good doctor raised a hand.
"Yeah... and what are you going to do about it?"
"Under the circumstances, nothing as yet... I'll think about it..." he shrugged and stood, approaching the mini-bar. Whether it was because he wanted to rub it in, or he just needed some, he pulled out a bottle of Dom Perignon and two champagne flutes. "Oops, my mistake... mountain spring for you." he said, pouring water into one of the flutes and handing it to her, before proceeding to pour himself some of the expensive champagne.
"You," she began, taking a sip of water, "are by far THE MOST arrogant, cocky, intelligent men I have ever and most probably will ever know, and yet, you can seem to be so stupid at times." She said, chuckling. He raised a brow. "You think that a glass of water's really gonna bug me? I'm not all that partial to champagne anyway, and you know it." Clarice explained.
"I don't like Jack Daniel's." He told her.
"You don't like any Jack's... or, for that matter William's..." Clarice retaliated.
"True... but, I seem to have taken an interest in one Clarice Starling..." Lecter said, putting his glass down and taking hers away. "How on Earth it all went downhill, I haven't a clue..." he went on, approaching her, "But, I'm sure we'll pick up where we left off..." he said, bringing his face to hers, exaggerating the 'f' in 'off'. Clarice, however, was wise to this game already and responded by slapping him across the face, hard enough to leave a mark for the rest of the day. She heaved her weight from his bed and left his room, waddling down the hall, into the elevator and back to her room.
~ That went well... ~ she thought to herself as she took some water from her own mini-bar. At least she had mountain spring water to keep her going...
Written in a fine copperplate hand it read:
There was a little starling
It flew far from the nest
The evil little tomcat
Ripped open its brown breast
Shuddering Clarice pushed the note aside and got to work on her doughnuts and pickles. When they were all gone she looked longingly at the bottle of JD. It would be a shame to waste it she thought. Heaving her large weight up from the bed she padded over to the little bathroom with the bottle.
Taking the glass from the side she poured a tiny bit of JD into the glass and watered it down severely. In the end it was more the colour of water than the normal dark brown.
"Here goes nothing." she said out loud and downed the murky liquid. It tasted like pond water. Spitting the foul tasting liquid into the sink Clarice glared at the bottle. Smelling the supposed Jack Daniels she recoiled at the smell... it WAS pond water.
"Hannibal Lecter. You are a dead man." She spat.
Walking back into the room Ex-special agent Starling changed from the bathrobe into a set of rather more acceptable clothes to go and find a receptionist.
The blonde, bubble-gum chewing receptionist was busying filing her nails when Clarice came into the foyer. She thought of what name the doctor might have used, he'd have to be completely stupid to use his real name.
"Do you know what room Dr Chilton is in? She questioned, a slight edge of agitation to her voice. The receptionist clacked about on the keyboard. Checking the results of her search, she shook her head.
"Sorry, we don't have anyone here under that name."
"Lecter?"
The receptionist, obviously not knowing WHO doctor Lecter was, clicked and clacked about again... "Nope." was the reply. After going through a long list of surnames including Krendler, Noonan, Pearsall and Crawford, she tried her own surname as a last ditch effort, "Starling?"
"Yes we do have a Dr Starling, Henry Starling," the receptionist seemed to feel the need to publicly swoon, Clarice rolled her eyes, "He's in room number 967. Floor 9." The receptionist said hurriedly and got back to her nails and gum.
Thanking the receptionist Clarice waddled down the hallway towards the elevator. Once inside she pressed the button for floor 9. On the journey up she thought about why she and Hannibal were getting a divorce.
*~*~*~*
"For Gods sake Hannibal! It's just a lamb chop! So it's a bit tough. It's still edible isn't it?" she remembered screeching at him when he had complained about her cooking one day. "Despite what you may think they don't teach you how to cook at the FBI. Since you're so good at cooking maybe you should make dinner!"
*~*~*~*
However that wasn't why they had split up. Though it had contributed. Hannibal's eating was another thing that hadn't helped.
*~*~*~*
"If you must do that don't you ever bring it any where near me! What do you think our neighbours think of you coming home from doing god only knows what your mouth covered in blood. At least wipe your mouth before you come home."
*~*~*~*
As two businessmen got into the lift at the third floor, Clarice started thinking of where it had started going downhill. The honeymoon. They had been staying in a small hotel not far from the Eiffel Tower. The couple had the money to stay in the largest hotel in Paris but Hannibal had put his foot down there.
*~*~*~*
"If we stayed in a larger hotel then we stand a greater chance of being recognised by people." When Clarice had started to react he said "American tourists stay in big flashy hotels to show that they can afford it." So after a large argument she had consented to stay in the smaller hotel. It had put a dark cloud over the rest of the honeymoon but nothing was said.
*~*~*~*
Feeling the baby kick Clarice smiled. There was one thing they agreed on. The child hadn't been planned but it was what was wanted.
When they reached the ninth floor Clarice got out and found the right room. Assuming her best "hands up" face she knocked hard on the door. "It's open, my dear." Came a smooth voice from the room. Swallowing her pride she walked in.
A few moments later screaming could be heard from the end of the hallway. A couple hurried back to their room and a bellboy dropped the cases he was carrying.
In the room the argument was getting violent. Clarice had picked up a table lamp and was waving it wildly. Hannibal however was sitting in a chair quite unperturbed by a pregnant woman waving a lamp in his face.
"Have you quite finished Clarice?" he said when she paused for breath. Clarice threw him a stony glare and flopped down on to the bed opposite him, still holding the lamp.
"You are a complete bastard." She said panting slightly. "What did you do that to my JD for?"
"It's not good for a woman in your... condition." He said, choosing his words wisely since her hormones had decided to go A.W.O.L.
"MY CONDITION?! Just WHO was it that put me in this 'condition' in the first place exactly?" Clarice ranted at him, gripping the lamp so tightly, her knuckles were white.
"Why, that would be me." the good doctor raised a hand.
"Yeah... and what are you going to do about it?"
"Under the circumstances, nothing as yet... I'll think about it..." he shrugged and stood, approaching the mini-bar. Whether it was because he wanted to rub it in, or he just needed some, he pulled out a bottle of Dom Perignon and two champagne flutes. "Oops, my mistake... mountain spring for you." he said, pouring water into one of the flutes and handing it to her, before proceeding to pour himself some of the expensive champagne.
"You," she began, taking a sip of water, "are by far THE MOST arrogant, cocky, intelligent men I have ever and most probably will ever know, and yet, you can seem to be so stupid at times." She said, chuckling. He raised a brow. "You think that a glass of water's really gonna bug me? I'm not all that partial to champagne anyway, and you know it." Clarice explained.
"I don't like Jack Daniel's." He told her.
"You don't like any Jack's... or, for that matter William's..." Clarice retaliated.
"True... but, I seem to have taken an interest in one Clarice Starling..." Lecter said, putting his glass down and taking hers away. "How on Earth it all went downhill, I haven't a clue..." he went on, approaching her, "But, I'm sure we'll pick up where we left off..." he said, bringing his face to hers, exaggerating the 'f' in 'off'. Clarice, however, was wise to this game already and responded by slapping him across the face, hard enough to leave a mark for the rest of the day. She heaved her weight from his bed and left his room, waddling down the hall, into the elevator and back to her room.
~ That went well... ~ she thought to herself as she took some water from her own mini-bar. At least she had mountain spring water to keep her going...