Passion and the Skull (Hannibal Lecter)

4

After the time that Hannibal had come over and stayed the night, the two had not seen each other for two weeks due to busy work schedules. They had spoken on the phone briefly where Hannibal had been curious for her professional input on one of his patients. Arabella had wondered if the phone call had become more flirtatious towards the end. The time away from one another had left her to fill the gap of his absence with daydreams and curiosities of him. She wondered if he did similar.

On the weekends, Arabella stayed home doing administrative work and having time for herself. She'd worked late into the evening a few times during the week. She highly enjoyed days where she wasn't required to travel and could enjoy her beautiful home where she had put so much time into making cosy.

On Saturday, after a gentle morning involving morning coffee on the porch in her pajamas, Arabella got some work done at her desk in her small office room. She was working on her next article to submit to a psychology journal and had a while to go on the writing. She decided to also get some organising done and reordered her drawers. That was when she noticed her old journal was in a place that she didn't remember leaving it in. She decided it was something she had done while tired or drunk and moved on with her organising.

After spending a few hours in her office, Arabella spent the latter half of her morning pruning bushes in her front garden. It was a warm but overcast day, perfect for garden work. She tended to her rose bush, finding herself for a moment lost in a trance as she gently felt the rose thorns poking at her skin, as if thirsty for blood. She found herself wondering about plants and environmental hierarchies. She thought about a musical she enjoyed called 'Little Shop of Horrors' in which an alien plant grows solely from a gardener's blood and eventually craves the flesh of humans.

"A fine day for pruning roses."

Arabella jolted, startled. She felt the palm of her hand press into the stem, embedding the thorns into her skin. She gasped at the unexpected stinging pain and dropped the rose stem onto the floor.
She saw Hannibal now in front of her. She hadn't heard his car or heard his footsteps. His expression was one of eager curiosity.
He moved like a ghost.

"I've done it again." His voice was sincere, and his expression changed from stolid to concerned.
In a matter of seconds he had retrieved a beautifully ornate handkerchief from the breast pocket of his charcoal blazer and wrapped Arabella's hand in it. His cool fingertips against her wrist made her want to shiver. She figured he was being polite and performing his care for her. She couldn't imagine her simple little wounds needing much more than a quick cleaning.

"You did." Arabella laughed, both nervous and impressed. "Well, it's lovely to see you. Would you like to come in for coffee?"

Despite the surprise and potential lack of boundaries of Hannibal driving out to her home without calling her first, Arabella was glad for the visit after not seeing him for some time.

They both sat at the table in her kitchen, waiting for the shrill steam-cry of the Moka pot. Arabella poured them both a cup and put a spoonful of cream in hers to prevent the discomfort of the coffee's acidity on her stomach.

"What brings you out this way?" She asked, after the two had spent a minute or so studying each other's faces. "It's nice to see you but you couldn't have known I'd be home without calling me."

"I was due to drive through the area this morning no matter what so I thought I would see if you were in." He took a sip of the coffee and smiled, "You get your beans from Antonio's."

"Yes, I do. Either you truly have the most sensitive tastebuds in the world, or you've seen my bag of coffee beans in the cupboard."

"I'm sure you've already recognised my attention to detail and my sense of smell. I have a sensitive palate too."