Silence stretched to the snapping point after Dr. Lecter's last declaration. Erik was not unmoved, but he vacillated between anger and hope, uncertain which was the appropriate response, feeling them concurrently. He knew that the man on the stage could have no hope of seeing him given the stage lighting, but it was uncanny that he knew where to look. Hannibal, and Hannibal alone, was aware of the hollow column behind Box 5. It was not in the boy's nature to tell such secrets to others - even to his elder self.
It was tempting to believe Dr. Lecter. Erik could almost indulge in the possibility. And yet...
Erik raked a gloved hand through his hair. Even that motion reminded him that life in the City was far different from life anywhere else. Erik hadn't had hair like this in Paris. Nor a face that could be viewed by anyone without revulsion. Nor the chance to walk like any other man through the streets in full daylight.
Erik sat heavily in the chair behind him.
"Play," he commanded. Not just anything. Something that proved it. Erik had given the boy plenty, and the Doctor surely would not know those things, unless...