Their Little Lady (✓)

Chapter 37 - The Right Decision?

"Hannibal?"
The question slipped past my lips without me even noticing.

Although, it wasn't necessarily a question in who the person was - more of what said person was doing in the (abandoned) dining room with me.

Instead of Hannibal answering my question, he dodged it and demanded something of me as an alternative.

"Come sit with me, dear."
Hannibal patted the spot next to him on the white couch, indicating for me to sit there.

I didn't necessarily want to sit with Hannibal, considering he gave me a pretty good spook not even 3 minutes ago.
If he wanted to talk to me, why did he have to be so. . .creepy about it?

But something in Hannibal's eyes told me that his gentle offer, was more of an absolute demand.

So, I cautiously walked towards the couch - never taking my eyes of Hannibal's...he did the same thing.
The eye contact was intense, but mostly intimidating for me. Hannibal seemed unaffected, if anything, he looked like he was enjoying it.

He wasn't just looking into my eyes as a sweet action, or for his own pleasure...but he was doing it so that he could analyze me better. He was trying to figure out my next move, my thoughts, and what exactly I was doing in this room.

He might have thought I was dumb enough to not notice what he was doing, but I can assure myself at least, that I am anything but stupid.

I slowly sat beside Hannibal on the couch, then I was finally able to look away from his eyes. I was mostly just staring to make she he didn't try anything while my back was turned - but I was sure I would be fine now. Hopefully.

Before any words could be said, Hannibal's amber irises shifted down my body instead of staying on my face. They seemed to linger at my torso and upper body.

I began to feel uncomfortable under his gaze, but before the feeling could become too strong, thankfully Hannibal spoke up.

"Have you been wearing that sad old shirt the past three weeks?"
His words eased my nerves.

Thank god he was just looking at my clothing choice. Well- not my clothing choice, but you get what I mean.
It was true, however. I have been wearing this same navy blue tee-shirt since the day I was kidnapped and had woken up in the basement of this house.
The slashers had not even so much as bother to let me shower.

As a matter of fact, I have asked. Multiple times. Each time was some lame excuse retorted back at me by them; 'how would we supervise you?' . . . 'tomorrow you can...' but it never happened. I HAVEN'T GOTTEN TO SHOWER IN WEEKS! I've managed to keep myself smelling decently these past weeks but it is getting harder and harder by each passing day.

Before I could even speak for myself, Hannibal had already figured out my answer before I could say it - just by the angry, yet disgusted look on my face.

He hummed in response.

"Well I didn't exactly have time to go shopping these past weeks."
I said sarcastically.

Hannibal let out a slight amused chuckled.

"I see. I will see to it that you get a warm shower and a fresh pair of clothes. Is shades of pink still your preferred color palate?"
Hannibal quizzed me.

My gaze suddenly drifted from the floor, to him.
"How did you know that?"
My eye brows furrowed.

Hannibal chuckled.

"My dear, I use to be a very good friend of yours - of course I would at least know your favorite color,"
Hannibal gave the smallest smile, I almost hadn't spotted it. Almost.