Cannibal's kiss (( Hannibal X OOC))

Barbie Doll

                  Hope let out a grunt of frustration tossing down a piece of yellowing paper with the neat cursive handwriting of Hannibal scribbling along the pages in black ink. Nothing, in the hours after the interesting lunch date with Clarice she didn't find a single thing in his old files that would point to a prior engagement or even knowledge of the current serial killer Buffalo Bill. Not that their was much to search through, many of the paperwork filed when he was a therapist were 'conveniently' lost or destroyed. The ones left over had long sense been proven to be falsified by former patients who testified against them or simply anyone who had that name being proven to not even know him. She had hoped that perhaps aliases were used or that something would point to a relationship with Bill, but their was nothing. Just scribbles on a piece of folded parchment. She rested her elbows on the desk cradling her head in an attempt to lessen the pain of a raging headache but being unsuccessful in the efforts. With the whirling from the metal fan shaking on a wobbly stand and thumping noisily along the ground only adding to the agony along with the chorus of cars honking in the streets below. People moving about their footsteps combined to make a collective sound only amplified to feel like a minuscule gnome was banging a heavy mallet on the inside of her skull, right between her eyes. 

              Sunlight flowed through the crack in the window, slightly faltered now from it's once luminescent glow when it was high in the sky but now it lazily dipped below the line of the horizon casting a soft amber glow that provided little light but a stream fell through the part of the curtains and onto a piece of crumpled paper set aside. The light pulled her attention and after several minutes of staying in the similar pose stuck in agony from the pounds of her head. Carefully uncurling the withering pieces down as to avoid ripping or further damaging the faded black ink neatly printed along the middle of the page. There wasn't much to be said about the piece in general, a rather dull report about a man and his partner who were having issues. Still, there was something about it- that perked her attention. Benjamin Raspell, a former patient who was mysteriously reported as missing years before. It was stated in the scrawled but proper handwriting from Lecter that the man with him had issues of his own. That this man desired nothing more then to take on the form of a woman with the misguided notion that it will heal his broken mind. A terribly sad thought but Hannibal wrote the words so bluntly. He struck her as a man who lacked the social awareness of his own hurtful language, or that he simply did not care to spare anyone's feelings. Passively saying terrible things because they came to mind, often mockingly. Hope placed her fingertip to the long dried words and gently traced them with her nail picturing the doctor in her place. Probably sitting in a better cared for desk with smooth beautiful carvings and carefully polished wood. Perched, straight back at the edge of a cushioned warm chair writing away with a bottle of freshly mixed black ink despite other, more useful writing utensils being available. Why would he do such a thing, she suspected he preferred the ways of his ancestors. Finding more modern options barbaric and lazy. Beside him providing generous light was a simple office lamp. The shaft of it was curved enough that the bulb was able to dangle over the paper but not have the base of the lamp rest were the bulb was. The top of the light bulb sheltered by a piece of painted green plastic that gave the ceiling a green hue. Writing down the simplest of thoughts and details but at the same time being incredibly cautious and thoughtful as to what to write down. Each word had a purpose in it's own right and each held a clue that she wished nothing more then to crack. Finally at the last period she set down the piece of paper and stared at the final word trapped in her own thoughts. 

                Could this be the connection Agent Sterling had mentioned earlier? Surely they possessed similar paperwork but the page itself wouldn't make sense to connect to Buffalo Bill unless someone was aware of Hannibal and his musing. Hope herself couldn't quite place why she was so certain that the partner who accompanied Benjamin was the infamous serial killer but something inside irked at just the mention. Finally it clicked, the mysterious man who had not been named had mentioned a coworker. A woman whose name at first seemed inconsequential, but now... She dove across the other side of the desk rooting through piles of files that slipped off the edge and fluttered down in messy heaps upon the floor. Dredging up a news article published recently about a third body being found bound inside a river. Not much had been offered by authorities in the case besides speculation that this was actually the first victim and he had simply hidden this crime instead of the others. There smack dab in the middle of the paragraph was the name of the victim, completely matching up with the name in Hannibal's report. The ginger ran a hand through her unkempt locks that fell in wild strands along her shoulders and face, staring down at the picture of a smiling girl now deceased and left to rot at the bottom of a river. Her stomach churned uneasily at the thought of it having never been able to understand the ability of others to commit such heinous crimes to satisfy their own twisted desires. She wanted to help Clarice and her hand twitched to call the number on the card provided for her but it would not be wise to do it just yet. What evidence did she have besides a sheet of paper that had already been confirmed as falsified by a previous investigation? While the names did match that could easily be explained away by someone sharing the same name- no. She needed to speak with Hannibal one on one again and confront him on what she had learned. Hope crossed to the doorway but stopped hearing something outside in the snaking corridor just before her apartment. The familiar click of heels far too lengthy and the pop of gum only to be re-inflated a few seconds later in an irritating and grating cycle of noise. Then silence, accompanied by a curt knock at the door. She stayed completely still, in the motions of grabbing for her coat but now staring fearful and wide-eyed at the front door like a deer caught in headlights. 

              In the next seconds of silence the knocks became more boisterous and frequent as the shadow in the doorway became impatient tapping the tip of her heel. Hope straightened her hand trembling slightly as it reached out and coiled around the cold metal of the doorknob. Twisting it slowly only for the door to be forcefully pushed open causing her to back up and gaze at the person standing in the hallway. It was a woman with hair the color of wheat that flowed in elegant curls down her back like waves of gold reaching up to the roots which were noticeably darkened but damaged from years of harmful bleaching to keep the color lightened. Her eyes the color of dark chocolate complimented by flecks of tawny giving them a softer hue towards the center where the black pupil rested. Dilated similarly as a cat fixated on prey and ready to pounce any moment. As a child she used to possess thin salmon pink lips but after several operations that had doubled in size and no longer held the beauty and simplicity of before. Locked in a tight fake smile and puffed out in a color far too dark to be natural only amplifying the strangeness of her appearance. Along with the advancements of her hair and lips, her skin was a shade far darker then her normal flesh had once been. This obvious by the tan lines along the deep curve on her V-neck blouse showing off the crevice of her breasts which also had some work done to make them a considerable size. Now straining against the thin layer of fabric but hard to spot under the unsightly ruffles going vertical along her shirt in strips. Towards the end of the blouse was a pair of faded baby blue jean shorts with a slant cut in the side to expose more skin in the clothing that was already rather immodest. To top it all off she was wearing white pumps with heels three inches too high that if she were to trip would indefinitely twist her ankles painfully. To put it simply, this woman held the appearance of a wannabe barbie doll but not holding the gracefulness and beauty of Barbie, instead expressing the look of someone who had a bad run in with Botox and attempted to cover it up with layers of makeup. 

"Hey girlieeee! Mom told me you haven't spoken to her in months! We were worried you died!" She spoke in an irritating high pitched voice, shrill from acting cheerful and excited despite her lips curling in disgust just glancing around the cozy little apartment and a glint of disdain shimmering behind the glaze of phony joy. Even accompanying her words with a bout of giggles and the pop of her gum once more. 

"Right.. Tell your mom I'm fine. Just- working is all. Besides I moved out of the foster home years ago. I can't keep coming back to support her. Why are you here anyways Trinity?" Hope's watchful gaze followed the blonde as she stepped into the kitchen area nonchalantly as if she owned the place. Taking out a nicely cleaned glass of champagne that reflected her image in the glass only to fill it with the crimson potent beverage of wine. Which she downed in a matter of seconds and then stalked over with a predatory smirk. 

"You know why I'm here. My mother cared for your ungrateful orphan ass for years and now it's time to pay it forward. So cough up some cash and I'll be on my merry way- until next year." 

Hope's lips arched into a frown, furrowing her eyebrows in irritation and her fingers coiling into a tight fist. Shaking her head curtly and speaking in a harsh tone spitting the words out like they tasted vile to her tongue. "No. I'm sick of you and your mother trying to shake me down every year. You did nothing for me! I cared for the children you were suppose to watch. All you and your mother did was collect the checks. Now leave my home." 

At first their was a tense silence as her foster sister smirked cruelly a dangerous look flashing across her face and she took a few small steps forward and then dropped the wine glass which scattered along the floor into small chunks. A larger piece bouncing up from impact and slicing open her lower leg just above her heel. Hope let out a squeal of pain crouching down and clamping a hand over the fresh slash attempting to clot the bleeding but being unable to stop the consistent flow of crimson that now streamed down her bare feet onto the hardwood floor. Glancing up only to see Trinity's face devoid of any empathy just smirking triumphantly and popping the pink gum once before before turning and sashaying out the open doorway leaving Hope to care for the wound. She gritted her teeth letting out a hiss as she pulled her hand away now pooling with fresh blood and examined the cut. It wasn't bad, no stray pieces of glass were stuck inside the sliced flesh it was considerably small for the amount of blood. Bitterness mixed with the agony of being attacked swarmed around her until she noticed the sprinkle of tears on the back of her arms and quickly wiped them away. Whispering to no one in particular through her clenched teeth.