hannigram | gorged, drowned, plucked, and roasted

15.

Applause erupts from the Studiolo following Dr Fell's presentation. He nods his thanks and shakes hands, eager to take his victory to Dr Sogliato.
Bedelia left the room mid-conference, just while Hannibal was comparing the punishment Dante assigns to the traitors of their guests to that reserved to the traitors of their benefactors. Slightly different flavours of ice burial, by the way, for icy cold is a backstabber's hearth.
Will listened to the end, instead, sit in the back, elbow to elbow with Dimmond.

'From the former assistant to the new,' Anthony whispers when Hannibal is almost done, 'I confess I do like the new Dr Fell better.'

'He's a tasteful man.'

'A brilliant one. Not to tell, handsome.'

'I've been told you're joining us for dinner tonight.'

Dimmond's eyebrows raise. '...Us ?'

'The Fells... let me use one of their bedrooms until I find a flat of my own.'

'Very generous. And how long has that been?' Dimmond doesn't let Will answer. 'I wish my Dr Fell was that benevolent. And yet, I wouldn't have appreciated that kind of attention from mine as much as I would from yours. You're a lucky man.'

'I can't complain.'

Dimmonds smirks. 'I do wonder where that remarkable wife of him falls in this arrangement.'

'On her feet, to this day.' At this, Will uses a meaningful side-glance to invite Dimmond not to disturb the lecture further.

When they enter the apartment, the three men find Bedelia just behind the door, wide-eyed, in her coat, a suitcase in one hand. Hannibal glances at it. Then, he kisses her cheek and says he's so glad she made it in time. He retrieves her coat and luggage and stores them into the foyer wardrobe.

'Lydia, dear, could you pour our guests a glass of wine from the glacette over there? Canapé's just beside. Dinner ready in a dash.'

Hannibal disappears in the kitchen, leaving Will and Bedelia to fend against the ice that fell on them. The only one still having fun seems to be Dimmond.

When they all sit around the table, the air is barely breathable.

'Oh,' Dimmond says at his roast beef. 'I thought it was going to be truffles.' He lifts the wine bottle from the ice bucket to read the label. 'And Bâtard-Montrachet, if I remember well enough.'

Will frowns. Hannibal looks suddenly very curious.

Before even attempting an explanation, Dimmond brings his fork to his mouth and gives the chef an emphatic look of gratitude.

'I met your wife at Vera this morning, buying just those things, and I presumed the purchases were for tonight - oh my God, not that I'm complaining; I'm sure food in heaven doesn't taste this good.'

Bedelia seems to be having trouble breathing. While Will puts the pieces together, Hannibal simpers, apparently more and more entertained by the moment.

'My wife always tries to ambush me with some cooking of her own,' he says. Then, jokingly reproachful. 'You spoiled all the surprise, Anthony.'

'Forgive my big mouth, Mrs Fell; I swear only the best intentions moved me.' Dimmond joins his hands in a theatrical plea, apparently determined to bury someone tonight. 'Lydia - can I call you that? - you have a charming, cultured, Michelin Star worthy husband, that adores you to the point he did not hesitate to put under your roof the most delightful assistant ever. You will agree that such a blessed woman deserves a mood breaker once in a while.'