Chapter 2

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"You are not having the whole bed!" Saskia said, chucking one of her smaller bags at Countess who decided to bury herself under the covers of the hotel bed. "I need to sleep before the event and you are not hogging the bed this time."

Countess pouted but even she knew she couldn't go against Saskia. This woman was much better a Mistress than her previous Masters were, she was treated correctly and was able to gain respect as long as she gave it. Even if she tried to push Saskia, Countess wouldn't go against the woman who saved her from the shelter that threatened to euthanise her.

The beautiful mutt knew that Saskia's word was final.

One day, Saskia came into the shelter and had a good wander about the whole place, checking each kennel, or really prison or cage would have been more accurate, before doing it once again. The person, a scrawny man in his late forties who wouldn't know the difference between his hair and a greasy bit of spaghetti, followed her around and told her about each animal.

He tried to diverge her path away from the side of the shelter that dealt with the more dangerous or damaged dogs and cats that needed to be put down.

Countess had been the one dog that didn't hide away in her kennel or outright bark obnoxiously as they passed. She almost glared like a human, her eyes holding a certain light. She had sat there, in the middle of her pristine kennel that she was proud of, and outright glared at Saskia when the woman bent down to her level. When Saskia bared a smile which turned into a silent snarling battle of baring one's teeth, she pointed and said,

"That's the one; her."

For several hours after her rescue, Countess always feared that she would be tossed out after she was past her use. Usually fighting in a ring, she quickly learnt that many humans were cruel and would not change. She had been sent to a shelter after she bit her old master in retaliation, fully knowing he deserved it because he had hurt one of her pack.

Now, Saskia Alasite was Pack. Leader. Mistress. Countess trusted her judgement enough to loyally follow her, she was shown no indication of cruelty to other animals from the woman. Humans were a different case entirely for her.

When Saskia finally allowed Countess to sleep in the same bed as her, simply hours after meeting, Countess knew she was alright.

Safe.

Home.

Not alone.

Not anymore.

Countess poked her head out from beneath the sheets, a doggy pout on her lips as it trembled. Saskia stripped down to her underwear, finally taking off her bra before she shoved Countess so there would be enough room. She leaned on her left side after placing her phone on charge and setting an alarm for five. Countess quickly snuggled into her curled side, her nose warm and wet against Saskia's collarbone.

Saskia didn't sleep often, only ever needing a few hours here or there. When she fell asleep, she could be roused by something as small as an erratic heartbeat or the unusual exhale. Saskia could easily ignore these but her instincts told her not to. With Countess, however, Saskia could lower her guard and get a decent amount of sleep.

She didn't need to worry, she knew she was protected.

The mutt groaned, it trailed in her chest before coming up as a deep huff against Saskia's ribs. A sharp kick to her hip made Saskia also groan silently, getting up to turn the alarm off before checking her social media. With nothing of interest besides fans and book readers asking when the newest Murder With Miscreants would come out.

"Do you want sausage or bacon?" Saskia said, reaching for the hotel phone to get room service. "Because you are getting fat and I am not having both stink up this room."

Her ear twitched as if to say Fat? I am not Fat, it is called fur! Then her left ear twitched and Saskia nodded.

"Sausage it is," She dialled the room service buttons and ordered a large meal for herself, one that could feed two grown men, and a single pet meal that the hotel offered. She had enough time to have a shower and wash her hair before the food came and she did just that.

The shower was smaller than she would have liked but she couldn't really complain. Luckily, Saskia had been allowed to get some personal belongings out of the house before the FBI completely took over for the investigation.

Crawford said that she wouldn't be allowed back in until after it was done, but since Will Graham had concluded that it wasn't the small killer as before, so they would only try to find Samson's killer. Saskia was sure that it was Liam who killed him but the team needed to prove it with evidence so the house was on lockdown until then.

There was a hesitating knock at the door before a squeaky voice said, "Room service."

"It's open," Saskia said as she began to finish the last curl, holding it up until the heat resided and she knew it would hold.

The door opened and a young man, barely into his twenties, came in with a small trolley. He pushed it until it sat at the base of the bed where he watched Countess's eyes follow him warily. He gulped and took the lid off of the pet meal, placing it by the designated food bowl near the door.

Saskia came in after putting a silk robe on, rubbing lotion into her elbows and wrists to keep them properly moisturised. The robe hid enough but the male's eyes still trailed down her form as she picked up Countess' bowl and placed it by the base of the bed.

Her eyes dared him to say anything when he opened his mouth. She handed him a twenty as a tip and as a bribe to keep silent. His eyes widened as she smiled and shooed him out, then her smile dropped.

Countess' tail flickered as if to say, Men.

Saskia snorted as her tail flicked left and Countess waited for her to start to eat before she even thought of starting herself. The mutt jumped off of the bed and waited by the base of the bed, her tail still going from one side to the other in anticipation. When Saskia took the first bit of her spicy rice, Countess almost jumped into the plate of fresh sausages and gravy and an assortment of specially picked vegetables.

"You got a little something on your nose," Saskia rubbed the right side of her nose to show Countess. The dog's pink tongue came out and, instead of going straight for the area, it wrapped around the side and went across the front and against the other side. "Disgusting, Countess. Really."

It neared six o'clock and Saskia decided it was time to properly get ready. She still had to do her makeup and then put on the dress and heels. Saskia shuddered, by the end of the night her feet would be in pure agony but she would look so good in them. The price of beauty.

She pulled the little black dress over the thong. The dress was skintight and had a halter neck top with no back so the only option was to go braless. Thankfully, Saskia was confident enough to do so. The dress came down to mid thigh with a line of sheer lace mixed in to give it an enticing look overall.

She was going to be cold.

Saskia finished applying the plum lipstick that would match her coat and accent the red bottoms of her heels. She rubbed her lips together as she rubbed the tiny bit of colour her skin caught in the corner of her mouth. The overall makeup was neutral with a certain glamour feel to it, her eyeliner and eyelashes were sharp and perfect as she smiled into the mirror. It just made her eyes and cheekbones pop.

She sat on the bed as she pulled the black platform stilettos closer, Saskia buckled the tiny strap around her ankles before she stood up. She almost lost her balance, staggering for a moment before distributing the balance correctly.

"You," Saskia pointed at Countess who was ready to nap on the bed once again. "Need to behave. I've taken you out already and we both ate. I'll be back in about two or three hours."

Saskia pulled the plum coat closer to her as she got in the pre-ordered taxi in front of the hotel.

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"I want to thank everyone who came tonight," Mia Kimmer raised her glass to the whole room as her smile was bright and welcoming. "I want everyone to enjoy my work as they walk around. There is no order to them, see them as you will. People will be walking around with refreshments, take as you will. Thank you again."

Mia had been the woman Saskia had asked to do the covers for her first novel in the Murder With Miscreants series. She had done so well, Saskia had employed her to do the rest of them. Of course, Saskia would see the finished products before they would be official.

Since her books had a darker tone to them than normal murder and thriller books, Mia was allowed to rework her inner sadist into the photos and images she presented for Saskia.

One of Saskia's favourites was Cyra.

A black and white picture of an absolutely beautiful woman. Her hair had been allowed to fall however they wanted and it gave her a wild yet elegant look about her. The woman's lips had curled up into a self-satisfied grin that barely showed the teeth beneath. The only thing that was in any way strange, or gruesome in some people's opinion, was that the skin around her eyes which would have normally been covered by a mask had been pulled clean away and revealed the pearly white skull underneath along with empty eye sockets. The woman cradled a mask, the skin and eyes that should have been on her face were the mask, the edges of the skin mask were frayed slightly.

It was all special effects, of course, and a bit of editing, but the final result was just as ghastly as it was beautiful. Cyra had been based on Saskia's first book, it focused on the fact that you couldn't trust someone simply by their looks and actions. It was also based on the character Cyra, the serial killer who, after injuring both eyes so they forever looked malformed and misty but she could still see perfectly fine, became jealous of other people who had beautiful eyes.

The book had been a bestseller and several publishing agencies wanted to sign Saskia for a long term contract. She laughed in their faces before she began to ignore any and all attempts of contact from them.

"I didn't think I would see you here, Miss Alasite,"

Saskia's concentration was broken as she turned to face Doctor Lecter in his black suit, tie and vest with a bright red shirt. Her curiosity had been piqued and she smiled pleasantly.

"Nor did I you, Doctor Lecter," Saskia clinked her still full champagne against his half-empty one. "But it is a pleasure to finally meet in better circumstances than finding bodies, blood and broken coffee machines."

"That it is, Miss Alasite,"

"Alasite," Saskia almost snapped, having enough of people producing it wrong for one day. "It is pronounced Ala-site-ah, not Alasite. Americans can never pronounce it right and it pisses me off."

"I would understand why, Ponia Alasite," He said, curling his tongue around the Lithuanian words. It made Saskia snort lightly.

"Yes. My understanding of that written language may be nonexistent, I can still hold a conversation well enough," Saskia saw that one of the waiters came closer and quickly deposited her glass on it.

"Are you not thirsty?"

"I don't like champagne," Saskia muttered. "It leaves a weird taste, kind of like sparkling water, I hate that too."

"So," He said after allowing a smile to appear on his lips, he gestured to Cyra with the glass in his hand. "I see that this is the cover for your first novel."

"Yes, Sight," Saskia said, pride filling her as she felt recognised. She stifled her words for a moment as she realised her instincts were going haywire near him, she ignored them but she would keep an eye out. "Cyra is the main protagonist and villain of the first book. She takes people's eyes and faces after an accident which damaged the looks of her eyes. She does it in such a cruel way that the victims were almost declared insane by the end of the procedures because she inflicts so much pain as a sort of revenge. No one suspects her because she is so beautiful and charismatic."

"Grim,"

"That's the point," Saskia loosely crossed her arms, keeping her eyes away from his. "Oh, and Crawford had called me earlier, having been advised by a Doctor Bloom, he said how I should see a psychiatrist because of how I reacted at the scene. Bullshit I say, but I have made an appointment with you for this Friday nonetheless."

"He is just concerned about your mental state after the ordeal," Doctor Lecter said with a slight frowning twist of the lips. "After all, you found a body of a previously loved one and then someone was shot dead in front of you."

"My parents had been concerned since I started writing, nothing new," Saskia rolled her eyes lightly. "I believe it's because of my reactions, however. I prefer to use dry humour and humour overall to make myself feel better. You'll learn all about this. However, I don't want to leave Countess alone. I don't like people in my mind and I would probably lash out in some way or form, be it verbally or physically. Would I be able to bring her?"

"I don't see why not. Why don't you like people in your mind, might I ask?"

"You can ask all you want when we have the appointment, then I know whatever I say will stay between us," She turned to him, fully looking into the unnatural maroon eyes of his. Saskia sucked in a breath and remained calm as her instincts made her want to hide. "I'm a careful person, Doctor Lecter. I don't tell my life story unless I'm confident in the person. My mind is my life, my imagination is my livelihood and skill. I've honed my mind over many years to where I am now."

"We will see how much skill you have honed," He said, almost bowing with the inclination of his head. "It seems like others require my attention. Good evening, Miss Alasite."

"Good evening, Doctor Lecter," She said, inclining her own head.

She sighed. It was hard to find someone who could pronounce her name without fumbling it around their tongues for several minutes. It was new, nice almost, but very strange.

Saskia felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to see Mia with a glass of whiskey in her hand. The average woman wore an emerald green dress that complimented her dark skin beautifully. Her hair had been pulled up and made a slight mohawk style with her coarse curls.

"Here you go," Mia winked and passed the glass. "This waiter company isn't worth their salt. I told them to get you a whiskey instead of champagne, but they didn't listen."

"Lifesaver," Saskia smiled, sipping at the glass with a satisfied moan. "Thank you. So the last two books have been finished…"

"And you want to see the covers," Mia faked a sigh but gestured to the photographs a few frames over. "Of course, I haven't completely finished them, they need text and I need to read the book before I can decide on the item. These are the final pieces."

"I'll send you a copy, same contract as before, though," Saskia nodded as she assessed them, her eyes grazing each minute detail. "Beautiful."

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"You're right on time," Doctor Lecter smiled as he opened the door more to allow her into the office.

The place was so beautiful, it reminded her of old libraries with a modern twist. There was another layer to the office, consisting of a walkway lined with books of different genres. Her keen eyes could see the tiny speck of ginger hair on the chairs.

"I hate being late," Saskia ran her hand against the chair before plucking the hair off and allowing it to fall onto the floor. "Do you know of a Freddie Lounds?"

"Yes, she's a tabloid blogger for," Doctor Lecter unbuttoned his suit vest and sat down, before gesturing for Saskia to do the same. "Why? Has she approached you?"

"The bitch approached me yesterday while I was out for dinner," Saskia dug her nail into the leather arm of the chair, watching his eye twitch as he accessed her anger. She wasn't very happy about being interrupted by the woman which the red-haired woman constantly did.

"Why do you call her a bitch?" He uncapped his fountain pen and wrote something that looked like her name in a cursive script.

The answer shot out without her needing to think about it, "Because she is rude. She tried to manipulate me in such a manner that it was obvious, tacky almost. She tried to guilt-trip me into telling her what happened. Most of all, She interrupted my meal, and no one interrupts my meals."

He stifled a chuckle before asking, "How did she try to guilt-trip you and manipulate you?"

"Tried to pass her curiosity off as the need to get the truth out. Two men who knew me died in my house, one brutally tortured before death. It was the public's right to know if they were in danger, she said," Saskia rolled her eyes at the thought. "I was eating and I was not in the mood to deal with her. So I allowed her to sit before debunking every jab she tried to make. Also threatened her career if she didn't leave me alone, that seemed to get through to her."

"Why did you threaten her career?"

"Easiest way to make someone leave you alone, that or threaten them or their loved ones. And I don't want to be a suspect if that twit ends up dead because she butted in somewhere where she shouldn't have." Saskia tried to stifle her yawn with the back of her hand, not wanting to look rude or insolent.

"Tired?"

"Yes,"

"When did you last sleep?"

Saskia glanced at her watch, mumbling, "It's half two, so three hours ago I woke up. I slept for five hours straight."

"And before that? When did you sleep before then?"

"Three and a half hours before the art gallery on Tuesday,"

"You've slept eight and a half hours in about four days? That isn't healthy,"

"Look, I know it isn't healthy but I can't help it. I've been sleeping better knowing that Samson is dead. It was probably just paranoia that disrupted my sleep, and my caffeine and writing. I don't like sleeping. I'm awake most of the night writing and by the time I actually go to sleep, the birds have started and I can't sleep. After a few days of little sleep, I crash and I think that's gonna happen tonight. I'll be asleep for about eleven straight hours."

"And Countess? How does she sleep?"

"She sleeps more in a day than I do in a week," She mumbled, almost jealous of the dog and her sleeping pattern.

"Why did you name her Countess?"

"The first night she came home with me, I watched a documentary about Countess Elisabeth Bathory," The dog's ear perked up with a twitch. "She loved the name and refused to be called anything but."

"You talk of her like she can understand you, and you her?" Doctor Lecter's eyes flickered to Countess as the dog gave him a dark look which he found amusing.

"I know that she can't understand me verbally, but body language is different. I can tell when she is agitated, or hungry, or annoyed, just like in humans,"

"So," Doctor Lecter started again. "When did you get Countess?"

Her eyes opened as one of her ears twitched. With her tail whipping against the porch wood, Countess yawned silently.

"She's a rescue," Saskia fondly jabbed the dog in the hip as she tried to go for her boot. "Abused by all of her owners, I rescued her after I first moved in. I found the house much too quiet. I'm used to a racket, be it sisters or roommates, I never really lived alone."

"Do you not like being alone?"

"Oh, I love being alone. There's a thick line between being alone and being lonely. The house was putting me into the latter category because my writing takes up all of my time."

"Yes, your writing. The group at the Behaviour Analysis Unit said that your novel is so realistic that they feared you were a killer yourself," He smiled in good humour. "How did you make that happen?"

"Nothing a bit of research and plenty of imagination can't do," She copied his facial expression but it dropped as soon as he looked away at his notepad.

"Did you always want to be an author?"

"I had planned to be a lawyer or a psychiatrist of sorts, but I always wanted to be a writer since I was in my mid-teens. Did Masters in psychology and sociology later on."

"Why?"

"Why not? What did you do before you became a psychiatrist?"

"Well, I received an internship at John's Hopkins medical school because of my drawings. I studied there for a medical degree before I decided to go into psychiatry."

Saskia nodded faintly, her attention was caught by the once again falling snow.

"I'm curious as to why you asked for an appointment. Are you scared of something? Have you something to prove?"

"When I was a teen, I got physically attacked by two girls who I didn't know well," Saskia started as she refused to look at him. "My friends stood there while they pulled parts of my hair out. When I was on the ground, the girls kicked me twice in the head, not too hard but still kicked me. I was dragged by the hair a few feet. That was the first instance that I found out that some people cannot be trusted.

"While I was being hurt, I laughed. Big, hearty laughs. I shouldn't have been laughing as they kicked me in the back when I sat up. I was crying but I was laughing at their pathetic attempts of pain. They dragged me again when they realised I was almost making fun of them.

"As I grew into a young lady, I realised that I was desensitized to blood and gore and all that. I gladly watched documentaries about serial killers, animal abusers, wars, anything gruesome you could watch, I did by the time I was twenty. Even worse, when I walked into my house Tuesday morning. I was happy that he was dead."

"Because you did it or because someone else did it for you?" He said, watching her huff with slight amusement at his words.

"Samson was a bastard, trying to gaslight me and manipulate me into being the perfect wife. I turned the tables around and he never realised. But I didn't kill him. Have I fantasised about killing him? Several times. Have I ever had an urge to kill him? Only when he kicked Countess did I actually want to physically attack him but I relented. I didn't kill him but I am very happy someone else did it for me but I wish they didn't do it in my house."

Instincts told her to be wary, cautious as the man before her didn't react like she thought he would have; he made a small "Hm," sound and didn't write anything down. He then asked, "Do you know who did it?"

"I presumed that Liam did it but we may not know unless there's full proof evidence," Saskia lifted her legs onto the chair, carefully folding them under her.

"You look uncomfortable."

Saskia turned her head to him, a subtle but not harsh glare in her eyes. "And you sound like you believe that I had something to do with his death."

"Do you?"

"I didn't kill him…"

Saskia knew that Hannibal Lecter suspected her. He had reason to, she wouldn't answer the question fully like he would have preferred, and she didn't like to look him in the eyes. His eyes, even though he tried to make them warm and welcoming, made Saskia's hairs stand on their ends as he gazed at her like a predator lazing around before the kill.

That was one of the reasons why she only did a single appointment.

She didn't need to be found out.

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She only had to stay in the hotel for two weeks before they concluded that Liam Osborn had killed Samson Tyler. They found Liam's DNA under Samson's nails and Liam still had the bloody knife in his waistband.

After the crime scene cleaners came and got rid of most of the blood in the bedroom, Saskia was hell-bent on completely tearing the place down but she relented and deep cleaned it instead.

Saskia pulled on thick grey trousers as she tugged the clean boots on along with a sleeveless top and yellow gloves.

The first thing she did was tear out the ruined carpet in the living room and the vinyl in the kitchen, replacing the flooring with tiles. Since most of her furniture was warm and dark woods and greys, she decided to go for large square tiles that were a dark and warm grey. They were a pain in the ass to place down but Saskia had already marked where each square would go. That made it so much easier.

Countess had wandered out of the house a few hours ago. Saskia wasn't worried, she had her chipped and wearing her navy collar. She knew that Countess would find herself home when dinner was ready, Countess was anything but late to meals.

Hmm, food.

The flooring took most of the day but Saskia wasn't tired with all of the physical work. She was used to wandering from one side of Baltimore to the other without tiring herself, her mind wouldn't allow her any peace until the early hours of the morning.

Music filled the house, a mix of Punk, Rock, and Pop. Saskia needed the energetic tempo the music gave, she sang along with her favourite songs as they came on even though she was scrubbing the inside of the fireplace thoroughly spotless.

The windows on either side of the fireplace were opened fully, having both handles turned to open to the wintery air. Saskia wasn't cold even with them open, her constant head bobbing to the music was fueling her warmth as she mimed the lyrics.

KNOCK KNOCK.

The sound didn't startle her, she had heard the creak of the wooden porch before the person had finished going up the small set of steps.

"Who is it?" Saskia's voice was heard clearly over the music, pausing in the scrubbing motion.

"It's Doctor Hannibal Lecter, Miss Alasite,"

CLANK.

Saskia winced as she ducked her head out of the fireplace, rubbing the back of it. "It's open."

There was a pause before the front door opened and Countess sashayed in and jumped onto her favourite high back chair without a care. It made Saskia smile fondly as she dropped the scrub tool into the soapy water bowl. She turned the music off with a simple tap on her phone.

"I had tried to call you," He began. "But you didn't answer."

"Sorry about that, my phone is always on silent. It's a force of habit now,"

"Samson?" He prompted.

"Yeah, he kept leaving so many messages that it was insane to listen to all of them,"

"Well, idiocy can't be helped. You look awfully cold," He said after a moment of accessing the open landed level of the house. Saskia shrugged. "Anyway, I found myself in Countess' company after I found her sitting with one of my patients. They are quite fond of her, almost relieving them of stress and worry when they pet her."

"She has a habit of wandering after being kept locked up for most of her life," Saskia peeled the gloves off before putting them to the side. She shoved the windows closed and this made the room so much warmer already. "Would you like a coffee?"

"If you're offering, I wouldn't say no," He smiled.

"I wouldn't offer if I didn't intend on fulfilling it," Saskia turned the machine on and it began to clean itself. "Come in, no need to loiter outside."

He gestured to his shoes which had been slightly covered in snow. Saskia waved it off, saying that the tiles would live and were so much easier to clean than carpet. He sat on the brown chesterfield sofa directly in front of the fireplace with Countess lounging to the left.

"Strong and plain, please,"

After the sound of grinding beans, this time Saskia checked the water just in case, and the sound of hot liquid splashing against the clear glass cup, Saskia stirred it once for good measure. She had pressed the button for her coffee already as she went to hand it to him, careful to not spill any of the burning coffee on her hand.

"Here you do, Doctor Lecter,"

"Hannibal, please, you are no longer my patient and I am no longer your psychiatrist,"

"Then Saskia, any pronunciation is welcome with that one," She watched him clasp the glass cup without making any sign of pain. Curious, even for her, it was hard to hold without letting the burning heat go to her skin. She went to get her own cup, pouring milk instead of that disgusting creamer most Americans prefered, with a lot of sugar.

"What coffee beans do you use?" He said, smelling it for a second before sipping at it.

"I think I got a dark roast last week," Saskia said before drinking the liquid that was a bit more bitter and smokier than normal. "Yes, definitely dark roast."

"I do apologise for not bringing Countess straight here but I had patients for the whole day,"

"It's alright, no harm done. She wanders but I'm surprised that she found her way to your office, she usually doesn't go into buildings without me,"

"I found her curled up with one of my patients, they adored her and I didn't see the harm in letting her comfort them," Hannibal said. "However when she saw a patient, she instantly knew if she liked them or not. She would curl up under the desk if she didn't."

"She's a good judge of character now, being used to quickly accessing if someone would harm her or not," Saskia almost muttered with a sad tone but shook it off. "I want to thank you for bringing her home. She doesn't like going out after dark by herself."

"Compared to most of her breeds, she's very well behaved and doesn't shed as much as I thought she would,"

"Na, I give her a good brushing every other day or so. She'll start to properly shed in spring, that's when I need to get a decent brush,"

Countess had almost draped herself sideways in the chair, her head leaning over one arm while her tail hung on the other. Her tail flicked, making only the white tip twitch as they spoke about her. She was content with simply listening.

"You've remodelled some of the house," It was more of a statement than a question as he gestured to the kitchen which now had a large island table instead of the useless half wall.

"The cleaners cleaned most of the blood upstairs and the bodily fluid from the corpses," Saskia said. "But the carpet was completely stained and the walls needed new paint. Since Samson is gone and dead, I no longer have to watch my back. The change was needed and I could afford it because my second book did as good as the first last week."

"Did Miss Kimmer also design the cover?"

"Yes, she did an absolutely gorgeous job. Of course, it took several tries but she finally got the look I was going for,"

The newest book was Mouth. The main character was Myra and she bound the lips of her victims because the rumours they sent around were cruel. Most of them were gossipers or people who didn't know when to shut up. She left the victims with their lips sewn shut into a smile before slicing through the cheeks to the ear to let them choke to death on their lies.

"I believe Miss Katz had been concerned with you having experience since she read it,"

Saskia almost snorted into her coffee but she was careful as she drank it. "Nah. Capable? Sure. Do I want to wear a prison uniform? God no. I'll stick with just writing about them, thanks."

Hannibal stood up, dusting off the nonexistent dust. "I best be going, it's getting late. Thank you for the coffee, Saskia."

"It's the least I could do, Hannibal," Saskia also stood before taking his empty glass. "If I lost Countess, or someone harmed her, I might just act out what my imagination gives me."

He smiled, amused with the playful but sarcastic tone she had. "Well, if Countess ever happens to wander off and isn't back in time, give me a call. I wouldn't mind her help with the patients."

"Alright. At least I know she's safe when she's not here," Saskia said.

Hannibal showed himself out with an inclination of his head. When he turned, Saskia tilted her head and watched his very nice backside walk away. After he closed the door, Countess made a snickering sound as she jumped from the chair, sitting by her feet with a wolfish grin.

"Shut it, Countess," Saskia whispered, slightly embarrassed about being caught by her dog. "It's not a bad backside, and he's fully dressed, that's gotta count for something. Dinner?"

Countess twitched an ear before strutting to the kitchen and depositing her rump onto the clean island table as Saskia began to make both of their dinners.

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Lithuanian words used:

Ponia = Lady, Miss. (Can be Mrs but the last name usually has to end with 'iene', with the start of the husband's first name. Kinda like Johnson, son of John, but instead of son, it's wife. Daughters have something similar but different, sons take the father's last name.)

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