Cannibal's kiss (( Hannibal X OOC))

Recorded Secrets

Hope traced the bulky black button on an ancient tape recorder, it's cool plastic cold against her exposed thighs but seemed to hum with life. Engraved neatly into the coarse texture of the button was an arrow pointed towards the right, a play button. Her finger twitched to click it down but she didn't, sitting in the muffled silence as a pair of heavy headphones blocked out the world around her. Left to roam around the palace of her thoughts and ponder why she had hesitated. The tapes themselves had been dropped off by Clarice only an hour or so ago, claiming she got it from Barney. Apparently Dr. Chilton had been recording her sessions with Hannibal and keeping them in the tapes, which she now possessed. That bastard, of course he would do such a thing. In the rush of bitterness Hope couldn't help but lose all empathy for the older man who lost his life. The fool taunted Lecter, what did he expect? Nothing but death and despair came to those who taunt a patient tiger. He didn't even last three days alike the other asylum workers all besides Barney and her...

Hope turned over onto her side catching the light recorder and gingerly setting it on the table pursing her lips and cursing herself for being so weak. It was just his voice and her own but the thought left prickles of anxiety that tickled along her shoulder flowing down her flexed spine. Ten years and even now Hannibal influenced her choices, it wasn't fair. Frustration built with the further silence and finally with a huff and rush of determination she pressed down the button feeling it click into place.

The roll of tape began to turn and static vibrated in the speaker a whirring sound coming from the plastic box. Then came a voice, deep but smooth as butter so familiar and pleasing to the senses that Hope smiled as if he was in the room now. What played through the headphones was the day they first met. In the background Miggs whimpered quietly and inmates barked mumbled words but they were nothing but white noise that took nothing away from him. His voice and his alone was clear and booming and she imagined the asylum was wrapped around them once more. The dull smokey gray wall covered in splattered mud and scratches from rowdy prisoners or incidents with asylum guards. A wall of stories with each little nitch and stain left behind from a person. Underneath her was the sturdy firmness of a plastic fold out chair, one leg slightly shorter which meant that leaning forward just a bit would rock it forward until it touched the ground. She raised her hands and could feel the cool layer of glass that encaged him behind and beside it a metal drawer where platters of breakfast would be set inside and pulled through with a rope attached to the handle. An effective system that Barney mentioned was implemented after an attack on a nurse. His attack on a nurse. A faint scent of stale urine and dried blood wafted to tickle under her nose. Rancid and painful it emerged from the cells but surprising his was completely clear of such a scent. It smelled.. Clean. The smell you would get when sitting in a new car or walking into a newly renovated house. Not a stain touched his stone walls and dust seemed to be repelled against the spine of untouched books and papers that sat neatly in a pile along the desk. She stared down at the metal table top where an open envelope sat in clear view that detailed an acceptance letter into some posh magazine. A mocking display to Dr. Chilton who did everything to get into papers such as that. Though the letter itself didn't seem to interest him at all. Placed to the side away from a blank canvas with the start of a drawing. He drew in wide arches of black shaded carefully in with a felt pen which would be incredibly difficult for anyone but it was done with ease and grace.

In that moment she could feel his gaze patient and curious following each moment with subtle glances and soaking in each emotion and face changes. Hope could still sense the amusement and intrigue in the rumble of his tone and was almost content to sink into familiarity and return to that place once more. Hannibal stood in front of the clear glass wall poised and firm as a redwood's trunk with shoulders pushed back and legs pressed together. He held the elegance of a dancer and each movement was purposeful and graceful. Moving easily across the small space of his cell towards the barrier so close she could feel his warm breath that fogged up the clear exterior. He was speaking but Hope did not listen pressing her bare palms to the glass and desiring it to be gone. A secret desire she held close to her heart where she could feel his touch. His calloused but soft fingers gentle and dancing along the crevice where her collar bone met her shoulder.