#pitifulthing

    Gaze traveled around the room in attempt to read the surroundings. It was a nice room, obviously, being a psychiatrists office, it had an old fashioned feel to it, enough to make you sleepy just by sitting there. It definitely wasn’t JD’s first choice to spend his free time in a place like this.. But he didn’t really have that much of a say in that matter. Finally, the door opened gently, followed by a man entering the room, he, along with the room, seemed to enjoy an old fashioned style. His eyes now fixated upon the one sitting across from him, he offered a smile, not without a vague twitch of irritation though. 

The door to Hannibal Lecter's office stood partially open.

The desk lamp rested on the floor in a pool of glass from its shattered bulb; the desk itself was turned onto its side. Books were strewn over the rug. One of the comfortable chairs had shifted subtly- there were a pair of twin grooves on the surface of the floor marking its path. The ladder was overturned and laid in a band of light spilling from between the thick striped curtains of the full length windows on the back wall. In the glow from the other window, a puddle of something shimmered red and black. It soaked into the tassels lining the edge of the rug and stained the rug's gold and red pattern.

The spilling fluid was dripping down the edge of a letter opener which was half buried into the throat of a middle-aged man in a dark, rumpled suit. His face was pressed into the rug and one of his hands rested in the pool of cooling red and black, one finger brushing the handle of the letter opener as if he had tried in vain to tear it free. One either side of his head were a pair of heeled shoes. The left shoe was bouncing up and down, its heel pounding a muffled rhythm into the rug. The leg it was attached to was twitching and the hands that hung limp between knees were dripping great droplets of blood. They too shook violently.

Clarice's face was pale, smeared with blood- her own and the man's. Her split lips were parted and air was hissing between her teeth. Blank eyes stared without seeing into the room beyond until the sound of footsteps drew them slowly, sluggishly upward to take in the figure that stood before her. She swallowed thickly and wet her lips before speaking in a soft, flat voice.

"I have to ask why you would agree with the statement? Are you stating it is a fifty percent chance you could hate someone one evening and love them another if the coin fell on love?"