Nothing Left To Love

        He shook his hand gently but all the same firmly, it didn't linger, but it wasn't too brief either. It was like that of meeting a new colleague, or perhaps a friend. Hannibal had no intentions of being friends with this man outside of their business here. He was to play a part, one that wasn't brought up in their first encounter over the phone. Hannibal felt revealing his fascinations and fantasies to the man would impose a falsity he didn't want. He wanted it to be natural at its best form.           "I assure you, your fees will be taken care of." He allowed the young man to venture in further, like a fly to Hannibal's meticulously kept web. "As well-- nothing out of he box." He smiled politely. "I don't expect anything but a good meal to satisfy us this evening, I found it would be better to meet you in person first." Hannibal took the lead toward a dark brown table pushed against the wall just outside the entryway of his home. He took out his address book and pulled out the cash the man asked for.             He seemed to pass over the name given to him, when introduced. He wasn't interested in this Elroy Lovel, but someone who looked like the alias and could very well act like him if Hannibal put him in the right corners. "I hope you aren't a vegetarian."

  He saw several interesting things when he looked at Hannibal Lecter. The most interesting was how clean he was. There wasn’t anything out of place, not even a hair. Why this made Sherlock curious wasn’t an obvious answer. “Perhaps.” If the man proved himself to be worth Sherlock’s time of course.

        "Ah yes," He replied with a slight shift in his suit. It seemed to stand still, while the rest of him moved in small, languid amounts beneath. His well-tailored person suit fit him well, only allowing those he wished to peek through the seems. "I would hope that your ideals of me have been tainted by Ms. Freddie Lounds and her tongue."           "They were more conversationally based, much like two friends or colleagues. However, he has asked for my help during his trial-- I only thought I would be loyal to him, as I have always been." Not always. Hannibal did not smile, but there was a lightness to his features that was friendly and inviting.            "I can't help but inquire, but you wouldn't happen to be related to Mycroft Holmes?"

  "And for some reason, I really don’t believe you. If I’m not hostage, then what am I? I highly doubt that you’re here to ‘keep me in check,’" Alexandru pointed out, the lines of his face darkening. He didn’t believe Hannibal one bit, and he made it absolutely clear that he didn’t, "I think I might leave, yeah. If you won’t ‘stop me’. I’ve managed to survive before you came in my life, why wouldn’t I survive now?" he questioned, shrugging his shoulders. He gave an exaggerated eye roll, "Well. Last I checked, ‘crazy’ was the definition of ‘insane’ and therefore, you are that.”

        You twist my words, Alexandru. I said help you, aid you in your battle with addiction-- it's something you cannot do alone. I want to guide you." The doctor observed Alexandru and his ever strengthening fight against him. In Hannibal's eyes, he was doing Alex good-- doing exactly what he claimed. However, he was fully aware of the extent he would be willing to go to keep him here. "The definition of insane and crazy are quite different, and yet the same. Insanity is a diagnosis, crazy is a wild, raving thing. Do I look mentally deranged to you?"

  "As a psychiatrist you have your own level of expertise in analysis, but I have no intention of teaching you deductive reasoning— not with multiple murders to solve. After the case is closed, I will be on my way back to New York— where I belong. Of course until the next time your thick-headed agent Crawford phones me back on a twelve plus hour train ride."

        Though the man had somewhat similar feelings toward Jack Crawford as his own, he could not surpass the disgruntlement Sherlock Holmes caused within Hannibal's stomach. He was grumpy due to the situation and could have the ability to forgive him if it changed as the day went on. Perhaps Hannibal was so willing to do so because of his fascination, or because Holmes was lacking in much meat.           "Perhaps another time then, when it seems fit. But allow me to properly introduce myself-- I am Hannibal Lecter."

  He didn’t want to do this. No, not one bit. But the alternative of just spending one more day dealing with scenes in his head which he couldn’t really discern from reality or fantasy (though no real fantasy, mind you; a bloody breathing living righteous hell, it was) was getting to him. And so… for the first time in a long while in any aspect of his life, he decided to get some help.

        His dark, almost maroon eyes studied the man before him. A bit ways away from home, Hannibal thought, among other things. There was a particular odor he could not surpass when he invited him inside his office. It was heavy, heated, the Inspector did a lot of time sweating and not because he had been running around solving crimes. Rather-- the thoughts and nightmares that haunted him after.          "Please-- A professor once told me, to be on time was to be late, but to be early was to be on time." With a promting smile as he gestured for the man to come in and take a seat where he felt he was comfortable, Hannibal added, "And to be late was to be dead." He chuckled softly and closed the door. "I'm glad you've come, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

   "If I hadn’t come to you first— I would have thought you were trying to psychoanalyze me."

        "On the contrary. I am merely curious of your abilities, Mr. Holmes and that perhaps I can learn one or two things from you during our time spent together."

pitifulthing started following you

       If you are looking for Hannibal Lecter, then yes.                                               You must be Gregory, please-- come in.

Regrets and Misfortune. { Hannibal Lecter & Elroy Lovel }

       This was a performance of sorts. A way of retrieving information without sounding too eager for it. He was not a beggar but curious.  And lonely. Hannibal knew this was far beyond his normal quota of people he would like to have for dinner, but sometimes the company of a stranger was much better than colleagues. It was only strange that the man called would be delivered in perfect character from a hotline sex service.          From what he discovered from the internet, the man looked similar to a former friend and patient. He would have preferred him in the normal flannel and jeans with the long, lazily kept hair but this would be the better image of a man he knew. Nicely dressed, clean shaven, hair cut short or at least better kept. There was no telling how his personality would match that of Lecter's imagination but it was worth a try. Again... He was lonely. And a bit bored as well.           When there was a ring at the door, Hannibal moved from the delicious smelling kitchen to his front door. He opened it with a pleasant smile. "It was wonderful of you to come." He would let the young man inside before offering a handshake and proper introduction.

  "Well," Alex started, watching the older man, "then do you know how much trouble you can get in for keeping me hostage?" Alex threatened. It was an idle threat. He wasn’t really even trying to make the threat; it just spiraled out of his mouth. He knew he wouldn’t go anywhere, and Hannibal had tailored his life to being quite… dull. There was no way to get out, unless Hannibal decided it, "But I still think you’re crazy. Even the ones who act like they’re not crazy could be crazy."

       "You're not my hostage. You are fully capable of walking out, if that is what you wish. But keep in mind the consequences of your actions if you do. I wont be able to protect you, especially from yourself." Hannibal had been watching over Alexandru, not in the most conventional of ways but he had gotten him clean from his addictions slowly but surely. "What makes me crazy?"

  "I’m sure that’s the usual answer you have, hm?" Alex crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to be as snarky as he usually was at Hannibal, "But I don’t have to ask her to know that you are crazy.”

        What makes me any crazier than you?" The doctor questioned. "By definition, I am car from crazy. Those who are crazy have exceeded the limitations of what is and isn't reality. I am fully aware of my actions."

  "Climbing walls? What walls are you trying to climb, Doctor?” Alex rose an eyebrow, “or are you going crazy now?”

        "I don't climb walls. I move through them, Alex." Hannibal studied the man's face, "Why don't you ask my psychiatrist?"