"They call you a war hero."
He looked up and his eyes met hers. "Good evening, Agent Starling."
"Good evening, Dr. Lecter. How have you been?"
"Thoughtful," he confessed.
She observed the twenty-eight-year-old man observe her, putting his Italian Vogue aside. "May I ask you what about?"
"You," he said right away. "Why do they let you come, Clarice? Do they know that you knew me before?"
"Have you told them?"
"No"
"Then they don't know."
He smiled satisfied, there was mischief in his expression. "Why are you here?"
"I'm doing my job, Doctor," she answered.
"You didn't refuse this job, even after knowing who I was, even after our letters… If they ever found them, Clarice…"
"They won't, there's no reason to look into me, Ha- Doctor."
He caught that slip. "Formal, are we?"
"Things changed."
"Did they?" he was taunting her.
"Have you ever thought about…?"
"Eating you?... Is that what is bothering you? You've been thinking about how I could murder-"
"I've been thinking about what you didn't tell me." She cut him off, facing him. He saw hurt in her eyes.
"I was supposed to tell the young and eager agent Starling about my… Peculiar eating habits?"
"You said you never lied."
"I didn't lie, you never asked."
"You suppressed information, Hannibal."
He could see her conflict, her pain. "Disappointed?"
"Yes!" she let out harshly. "It feels like you betrayed me."
He didn't see this coming.
"You know what is worse?... You were the first person I allowed to get close to me, after what happened to my father. And you kept it from me!"
He swallowed.
"I thought we could-"
"Don't say it!" he growled and she glanced at him surprised. "Go home, Clarice."
"We have work to do, we made a deal." she insisted.
"Clarice,..." he tried again, before pausing and breathing. "Very well, let's work on it."
She looked down at her notes.
"After this case is over, we're done," he said. "I'm not saying a word to Jack Crawford ever again."
"You could save-"
"I won't!" he faced her, furious. "I'll not let you use me."
"How dare you?!" it was out of her mouth before she could think of it.
A moment of silence.
"You're right. After this case, we're done," she muttered.
Hannibal watched as she locked herself back in her shell. He didn't allow himself to feel guilty until she left.
Next time he saw her, she'd ask about his injured hand and he would not answer, he would not let her know he almost broke a finger punching the wall.