I decided that I will continue with it, as an idea struck me on my way home. So without further ado, I give you Chapter 2!
Thanks to the Guest that reviewed, as well as wellscrubbedrube and Leemaris! To Guest, first of all, thank you, and second of all, I agree. It was far too short, but I had to get your interest somehow, didn't I?
Clarice debated back and forth with herself about returning to the asylum. If she did go, Doctor Lecter might force her into further divulgence of her private life, which was not a nice prospect, and if she didn't, Buffalo Bill would surely claim a new victim, which was far, far worse. And Clarice couldn't let that happen.
So she told herself as her heart leapt up into her throat, watching the redbrick building loom before her as she parked her small car. Taking in lungfuls of air, Trainee Agent Clarice M. Starling told herself that she was as strong as any man, and just as clever, and she could get through one measly little visit with a renowned cannibal.
Going through the usual tests and rules was nothing at this point, all of her attention was focused on how she would behave with Doctor Lecter. How she would sit, how she would speak...
Soon enough, the teeth-like gates slid and slammed open, leaving the corridor looking like an open jaw. Clarice swallowed, and stepped into the Lion's maw.
"My, oh my, Agent Starling. What a pleasant surprise." Doctor Lecter smiled darkly at his brave little Starling, hopping closer to his outstretched hands.
"Good morning, Doctor." Clarice said tightly.
"It's been some time, my dear. Have you been busy, down at the FBI?" Lecter drawled the acronym, almost whispering it, "Or were you scared to return?" Clarice's mouth tightened, lines appearing into the pallor of her skin.
"I wouldn't be sane if I weren't scared of you, Doctor Lecter." she said, meeting his roiling red eyes. Lecter smiled, amused. She was incredibly frank, it made for a pleasing change in conversation. He usually revelled in hidden meanings and innuendo, but her openess was disarming and, dare he say it, charming.
"Indeed, it's rather wise of you to think so." Clarice nodded stiffly, before sitting down in the cheap, plastic chair.
"May I ask what kept you, Agent Starling?"
"I would rather we discussed Buffalo Bill, Doctor." Ah, Clarice, so blunt...
"Don't you remember our agreement, my dear. Quid pro quo..." Clarice resisted the urge to sigh in frustration.
"Fine." Now now Clarice, thought Hannibal, manners don't cost a penny, "I was busy, I am still a student, and I have plenty of other work projects."
"I see. Bogged under, was it? I'm sure they work you hard, Agent Starling."
"They do, sir." Relieved that the conversation topic was at least more comfortable than her reluctance to return to the asylum, Clarice relaxed a slight degree.
"But you're a hard worker, aren't you Clarice? You'll never do anything special for a better grade, would you?" So much for her comfort, "Never wink at the professor, smile sweetly at old Jackie boy for that advancement, never adjust your clothing in front of the men that control your future?" Lecter began to lean in, greatly enjoying the effect he was having on Clarice.
"Doctor Lecter, I'm sure I don't know what you're insinuating, but-"
"You know excatly what I'm insinuating, Clarice. Surely you recognise your power? You could have the men in your life eating out of the palm of your hand." Clarice's breath almost stopped, she was so tense. Lecter watched her raptuously, enjoying her little nervous display.
Did she know her power? Did she realise that she could have him, if she so wanted? She was so very enchanting, the way her cheeks blushed, the way her eyes shone and slanted slightly. Everything about Clarice was dangerously, inebriatingly magnified; her body under her almost austere clothing, her legs moving under her skirt...
Hannibal wondered what she'd look like in revealing black silk.
"Quid pro quo, Doctor." The spell was broken.
"If you insist, Agent Starling." Lecter leaned back, and Clarice blinked a few times to clear her thoughts.
"So, Doctor Lector," Clarice began, pulling her heavy coat off, and exposing her throat and wrists, "What do you know-"
She was cut off by Lecter closing his eyes. To her abject horror, he lifted his chin and sniffed delicately at the circled holes in the thick glass. She was still holding her coat, but couldn't relax her fingers to let it go.
"I can smell your perfume, my dear, but it is not l'Air du Temps. It is, however, bewitching. I strongly suggest you do not wear it around other men, they may get the wrong idea."
"I'm not wearing any perfume, Doctor-" she began in confusion, before cutting herself off abruptly in terrible realisation.
"Ah," Lecter said softly, "I see." His nostrils flared slightly as he sniffed again, "My statement still stands, Clarice. You do smell intoxicating, it makes me wonder about how you taste." He smiled knowingly, and released a minute chuckle of mirth.
Clarice stood up quickly and collected her coat to her chest protectively, greatly uncomfortable. She turned to leave.
"Agent Starling, I do hope I have not offended you. That was never my intention." Clarice turned back, astounded.
"Then what was that spiel about me being a 'rube' about, Doctor?" Clarice's anger bubbled over the brim, and she almost spat the question at Lecter. Her muscles tensed, and Lecter admired the tendons and sinews in her elegant neck.
"I wanted to see what you're made of, Agent Starling." Still indignant, Clarice frowned, her smooth brow barely even folding.
"A little test, was it? To see if I was worthy of your time?" My my, Clarice, thought Hannibal, what sour grapes are these?
"If you want to put it that way, then yes." Lecter didn't even blink in his calmness, while he watched Clarice fume. With great effort, she placed the lid slowly on her anger and sat down again, determined to see some results.
"Quid pro quo, Doctor." she said through gritted teeth.
Hannibal Lecter smiled.
I hope you enjoyed the continuation, my friends!