A smile played suddenly on Hannibal's lips. It wasn't a friendly sort of smile at all. She was the rabbit, he was the wolf. The little rabbit was scared now, and he could smell it all over her. Her heart was beating faster, the sound like a small symphonic rhythm to his ears. Her body temperature went up. His eyes closed slowly and reopened as he inhaled the sweet scent of fear. Something that he'd not tasted in a little bit too long.
"There's no issue that a murderer can love. That a monster can harbor feelings of the deepest and truest implications. That we might hold somebody dear to ourselves, making life all the more dangerous to those who might threaten the one whom we adore. You saw and read as much yourself, I'm sure. The story of Hannibal and Clarice was enchanting. Indeed, when she was here briefly, I found myself taken with her. But in a slightly different way perhaps due to my involvement with another. If I had not had said attachment, things might have gone differently."
The chair turned just a hair. Just enough for her to realize that he was a living, breathing thing there in front of her. The movement of a psychologist to show that despite the conversation, the raking was still there, that he was doing the reading, and she the telling. The nudge of the monster to tell her that he was the one in charge here, he was the one in power. She would not know it when she saw it, but her brain would register it in such a way that it would stick deep within.
"You're lying." His lip twitched. "You've no more forgotten your feelings for Doctor House than you have lost your ability to walk. You still care for him, and you hope that one day he might change his mind about things. If he were here, you might try to play out on that fantasy. What is it about him? That he is gruff and needs no affection? That he is broken and you wish to fix him or care for his needs? Or is it purely that he doesn't want you, so you find your wanting of him increased?"