'' Repeating History ''

'' A Dinner For Two ''

All day Bowie brooded in their apartment. Mulling over the events of the day prior. Contemplating the direction that their life seemed to be headed. It seemed that despite their best efforts to avoid him, and hopes that he would go away on his own, Doctor Hannibal Lecter would be here to stay. And so would they have to collect evidence against him, to get him arrested.

They knew it wouldn't be easy. They knew there would be danger involved. Risks which came with the dirty work of trying to catch a serial killer, multiplied considerably by the fact that said serial killer was involved with them on a much more personal level, and already has the trust and favor of their boss.

No. Not a thing about this would be easy in the slightest.

Even still, they would do their best. And to start things off, they decided to make themselves more appealing to the doctor. More acceptable. They didn't want him to look at them and see a broken little bird in need of capture and care. They wanted him to see them as stable as they could muster themselves to be.

They spent hours cleaning their apartment. Doing their laundry and organizing things around their unit. They had just finished making a grocery list. Pulling on their coat, ready to leave, when a piece of folded-up paper fell from the cut in the bottom of their left coat pocket.

They stare down at it. Pretending not to know what's written upon it. Closing their eyes and taking a deep breath. As they slowly peel them open again, they can't help glancing at the time. Six thirty-four. They'd have just enough time to shower and take care of their hair if they did so now. Wash off all that stink that had built on them throughout their day of cleaning.

The thought of having dinner with Hannibal was sickening. But not nearly as bad of a feeling as the one they got when thinking about spending more than a hundred dollars on groceries. So they find themselves under the hot water of their shower only minutes later.

They know Hannibal doesn't expect them to dress up or make themselves look more presentable for their dinner, which he likely also hadn't expected them to even show up for. So they make an effort to pull themselves together as much as possible.

Dressed in a simple, white button down, under a black sweater vest, and tucked into the nicest pair of suit pants they owned, held tight to their slim waist by a thick leather belt, and the nicest pair of boots they owned, Bowie was beginning to feel a little more confident.

Staring at themselves in the mirror. Those deep sagging bags beneath their eyes wouldn't fade quickly, but in their opinion, it brought more personality to their soft, freckled face. The way their clothes almost hugged their body made them a little self-conscious. They were terribly thin. That's why they preferred to wear loose-fitting and dark garments. Makes it a lot harder to tell how skinny they are.

They push a hand firmly along the front of their chest. Frowning deeply, they can feel their ribs even through their layered clothing. Perhaps things were getting to an unhealthy level. Or maybe they always were, and it's only now that they've decided to make a slight change for the better, that they finally realize just how bad things really were. No wonder Carter was pressuring them to get help.

With a disheartened sigh, they begin to brush their hair. Brushing it back so they can pull it into a messy, albeit better than leaving it down, man bun. Brushing their teeth as quickly as they can before running off for the door. Grabbing their coat and then hesitating. It was old and becoming ragged at this point. But it was the only coat they had. Annoyed, but refusing to freeze, they pull it on and leave their apartment.

The cab they called is waiting outside, and they're swift to get in and give the address they're headed to. The driver gives them a brief look of suspicion but then starts along their way. Bowie is only mildly annoyed by the look he gave them. Choosing to focus on the potential events to come.

The house is warm. Fancy as all hell and more than a little intimidating to stand in. Reminding them much of the miniature mansion that they'd lived in for the latter half of their childhood, which still technically belongs to them, as it was left in the will of their stepfather under their name. Along with many other things.

"I must admit, Bowie. I'm a little surprised that you came," Hannibal says in a sophisticated tone as he shuts and locks the door behind the detective.