The Universe's Mixer

Clarice Starling sat at a street corner café with her hands around a ceramic mug of coffee, though she did not drink from it. The local newspaper sat in front of her, but she had stopped reading it some time ago. Instead, she watched.

When she'd woken up in a strange place she'd initially dismissed it as a dream, but the solidness of it had very quickly dispelled that notion. Instead of sitting in the little apartment--presumably hers, given the few decorations and the clothes in the closet and drawers--she dressed and went out, trying to get the lay of the land. Which was how she came to be here, people-watching.

Everyone looked so normal. Everything seemed unremarkable. It was the very picture of idyllic city life. Except city life was never idyllic. There were traffic jams, and rat problems; homeless people begging on street corners and urban decay creeping in.

She finally sipped on her coffee and grimaced. It had gone cold in the time that she had been sitting. She turned, looking for the waitress.

Almost two days ago, not quite a full two days, Hannibal had installed Magdelene Defoe into Erik's mansion as Arya's nurse. He had instructed the woman to be there around the clock, and to make her voice heard often. This latter he'd wanted so that it would not seem so odd when Erik finally arrived and the singing began in earnest. Arya must not be heard to utter anything along the lines of why are you singing? Even after just two days, she would be used to Mag doing this, and be comfortable with it.

Hannibal himself had made a point of visiting Arya more than once a day, which he had been doing anyway to make sure the girl had enough of what she needed. But now he felt as if he were being watched by the very walls. As if they anticipated the return of their true master. Hannibal hoped that the plot worked and that Erik did return. As much as he might have enjoyed the manor, it would never truly feel like his.

The composer was due any moment. Hannibal stood at the entry, waiting. Mag had instructions to wait for twenty minutes after she heard the men talking to make her vocal debut. He wanted her to sing from upstairs, from Arya's room. He wanted Erik to seek her out, go to her, discover her singing for the girl, or singing as she folded clothes. Singing, but without any pretense of being heard. Singing and surprised to discover that she had an audience.

So far, Mag had done her job quite well. Arya believed that Mag was there to nurse her and be a companion. Mag kept to Hannibal's strict clothing guidelines. She was a true diva if he'd ever seen one. Listened to instructions, took direction very well, and played her part as if she were truly living it.

He heard the sounds of Erik's shoes upon the steps leading to the doorway. The door itself was opened before the Phantom could lift a hand to turn the knob - or, god forbid, knock. There were many things that Hannibal could tell by Erik's appearance, all assessed within seconds.

"You haven't slept." He hadn't expected Erik to. Though only one with a keen eye would be able to tell, for the most part, Erik looked like tailored perfection. He even wore gloves.

Hannibal did not wait, but turned inward to the heart of the house.