hannibal lecter

the weekend was the girl’s favorite. much like any working person. she lived for time off. while she loved her school kids, anna loved being able to explore and enjoy all the things the city had to offer. one of the things she really began to love was making time to go see a play or musical. she went way more than she cared to admit. it was a new day. no idea what she wanted to see. traveling to the city with no plan and just hoping that the world would give her a sign.

she got off the subway at a stop close to the mall. she wanted to take a walk. take in the sounds of the city. growing up in a small town was so different than this. it was always quiet and not much to do. it didn’t take long for her to arrive at the mall. a content sigh. anna begins to walk around. window shopping, mostly. she doesn’t have a whole lot of spending money to go around since she likes to fuel her fine art journey every weekend. she didn’t mind that though.

eyes wander from the store front she’s looking at to an advertisement on the wall next to it. a show she had never heard of. strange. anna was pretty up to date on the shows playing. she began to pull out her phone to do some research on it. where did it come from, when did it open? how did she not know about it?

SHE’S NEVER LIKED PARTIES, the stuffiness of them all, the tight quarters and the wine that tastes bitter down her throat, burns her insides despite the ever-present CHILL in her stomach. There’s always a stiffness to them that’s different from the COURTROOM. In the courtroom, Elsa can be sharp as she wants, teeth bared in ( false, always false ) aggression and coldness. Here, well –

Here, Elsa’s expected to PLAY NICE, to smile stiff smiles and chatter like she WANTS to make connections, take potential clients. Pass out her business cards like she’s DESPERATE for work, when the exact opposite is true. Her firm is doing PERFECT, top-notch and well reviewed and there’s absolutely no-fucking-reason for her to be HERE when she could be nose-deep in another case right now.

Maybe that’s what he wants, or maybe Elsa’s being PARANOID.

She weaves her way through the crowd, gloved hands CLUTCHING each other as she tries to find a spot that’s less crowded. That feels like she can melt away into the shadows and not have STARES pinned to her shoulders. ( The wine feels unpleasant in her stomach, and she holds her half-drunken glass carefully between her fingers. Doesn’t drink any more of it. )

That’s how he finds her ( because Elsa certainly wouldn’t go looking for Hannibal Lecter unless she needed a statement, unless she needed him to conveniently – too conveniently – give her information ), tucked into the corner with a TIGHT, unpleasant pull of her lips and a not-even quarter-drank glass of red ( she always preferred white ) wine in her gloved fingers.

     A smile of amusement appeared as Hannibal looked her over. She was rigid, her movements almost what you might imagine a statue would make if it became animated. “ I admire the perseverance you hold in your line of work, and I appreciate all you do. I was hoping you would see my invitation as a form of gratitude. ” He had the privilege of seeing her in the courtroom more than once now ( twice to be exact ), and, similar as to how people complimented his cooking— watching her was like attending an entire performance. The woman he had seen in front of a judge, though, was much different from what he observed now.       The two court cases had both involved former patients of Hannibal’s— though neither were a suit against him, he was merely a witness to the stand. “ It’s no more coincidental for me to be the psychiatrist to both of the defendants as it was for you to be the lawyer they both hired. ”       He eyed her cup of wine, still mostly full. “ Is the wine not to your liking ? Come, I can show you the rest of my selection. The kitchen is much less crowded, as well. ” Hannibal led her out of the front room and to, as he promised, to the less populated kitchen, only holding waiters that moved in and out from it. “ What do you prefer ? ” He asked, opening the fridge. “ I can offer white, champagne... or would you prefer beer ? ”