ONGOING; Christmas-not-so-cheer?

[consumingly.livejournal.com]

When; Tonight, Dec. 24th
Rating; PG, PG-13?
Characters; Hannibal Lecter (consumingly) And Clarice Starling (savejustone)
Summary; Heigh Ho, it's Christmas! And there's mistletoe. But luckily, Clarice has scheduled an appointment with the good Doctor Lecter it's either gonna be mindfuck abound, or awkwardness around as hey, it's Christmas and there's no avoiding that mistletoe.
Log; Christmas Eve. 9:04 P.M.

He pondered if he should have put forth the effort of preparing a Christmas roast--the man who delivered his furniture had been rather rude to him after all, and he had his eye on him for quite some time-- but it WAS the holidays, and with it being the holidays, one was always short on things like time. He'd just dismissed one of his patients who happened to have some stress trauma with the holidays. Maybe they'd learn to unwind. Maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they'd go back to normal after the 25th. But already, he could guess.

He flipped his chart to his next appointment. Clarice Starling ... The FBI agent. Her demeanor had changed entirely when they spoke last, more specifically, when she had learned his name. Quite a bit would change how they acted, when they learned that little fact. A movie and a book were all mentioned, apparently the name Hannibal Lecter carried a sort of...weight with it. A legacy, if you will. It was even mentioned that he was...ah, a Cannibal?

How curious indeed. Too many similarities, for one. Perhaps a future figure? He was mentioned to look 'a lot older' than he was now. If only he could look into that a bit more.

But he heard the ring of the door opening. "Come in." He said, setting the clipboard on his desk and striding to meet his newest patient.

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[savejustone.livejournal.com]

Before she had left her apartment, she had spent at least ten minutes trying to decide if she should bring a weapon with her. She still had no gun or badge. Clarice knew from what Crawford had told her about Lecter and what she had read in the newspaper - not to mention her own personal experience - that he didn't need a weapon to seriously harm a person. She also knew that one's best behavior and courtesy was a must when dealing the doctor, mainly because he did not tolerate rudeness, and those that usually indulged themselves in such activities usually found themselves as his dinner.

Clarice had opted to go unarmed. This was the trial period, testing the waters, so to speak. As far as she knew, he hadn't done anything wrong yet in the City. She would have to wait, and watch....and it would be rude to bring a weapon. Might as well treat it like any other visit like before, when Buffalo Bill was at large.

That's what she had to keep telling herself as she walked through the snow-covered streets, finally finding herself in front of the small building that was Hannibal's clinic. Her stomach churned in nervousness, and she braced herself for what was to come.

"Do you scare easily, Starling?"

Crawford's words seemed to bite into her consciousness, and she mentally fought them away. She was strong. She could do this, she could make her father proud. She would be brave. Now wasn't the time to be afraid.

With one last heaving sigh, Clarice opened the door. A bell rang as she entered, and the door shut with finality. The waiting area itself was clean and orderly, with everything one would expect to see: a coffee table strewn with numerous magazines, several chairs, a plant or two, and classical music playing on the overhead speakers. The only thing that was missing was a secretary; the seat at the desk was vacant, although there was a clipboard on its surface nevertheless.

Clarice put up her guard automatically as she heard his voice - she was determined to not let anything happen like it had last time.

[consumingly.livejournal.com]

Hannibal tilted his head to the woman entering. Just on time, he thought, extending a hand for her to shake. "How nice of you to make time on such a busy night. Most others are visiting family and the like."

She was a little windswept from the outdoors, but very naturally pretty. It was a shame--she must not have had any family in the City -- or maybe she made all of her time for this? Was she one of those who really knew who he was? It was an interesting thought to ponder, that he may just be speaking to someone who knew him--well, one of him. She mentioned his famous name, but the others had mentioned it to be famous for...another reason. So she had to have known this too.

So her intentions wouldn't be the same.

He ushered her into the session room. It was nicely decorated enough, a curtained window, a long, plush couch, and his desk, organized next to two filing cabinents. His laptop rested on the top, perhaps open to a network post, but it was promptly closed for the sake of removing distractions from the area. Now, the only noise was perhaps a distant and faint carolling, the sound of some vehicles moving about. Typical City noise. It could almost feel like home.

"Now then...an interview? Or more like a session, I would think." He gave friendly and venomous smile. "It's Christmas...so sharing our thoughts would only be appropriate, yes?" He picked up a plain notepad off of his desk, complete with a pen. "Take a seat." He gestured to the couch, "And tell me a little bit about yourself, Miss Starling."

[savejustone.livejournal.com]

"My family is back in my world, so it's no trouble," she answered, rubbing her hands together to get some feeling back into them. She brushed the snow on the arms of her coat off, glad to be out of the cold, even if it was in the presence of...what did Crawford call him?...oh yes, a monster.

The session room was nice enough, and she couldn't tell if he were on his guard or not. Could she ever really tell with him? ...No, not really. Hannibal Lecter was always an enigma. She would have to be careful and tread carefully. Despite what she thought, she did not have the upper-hand, and since she was in his building, his office, and pretty much at his mercy, she couldn't dare to risk to do anything rash. Better to use patience. There was no Catherine Martin at risk now, and caution seemed like the safest route to take.

"A session would be more adequate, yes," she agreed, taking a seat. It was almost chilling to know that this same man had said "take a seat" only a few years ago, in a dimly lit hallway in the Sanitarium. "...I guess so."

She sighed, tugging a stray strand of hair out of her face. Quid pro quo, she couldn't help thinking. "Well, my name is Clarice Starling. I'm a Special Agent in the FBI, currently on suspension...but you know that already."