Private Story Line Community

Quick recap: Clarice is on Hannibal's trail, having been lured out by the wily psychiatrist, but things have gone wrong when Verger's goons ensnared the good doctor. Now it's Clarice to the rescue! Continued from here

They trundled the handcart into the barn. Verger's Sardinian stooges, that is - Carlo, Tommaso and Piero. Hannibal was unperturbed as ever. His inquisitive glance took in his surroundings, not missing the three closed-circuit video cameras, and the intercom over which Mason Verger was undoubtedly listening to the proceedings.

Directing his words to Carlo, Hannibal said in a cool, unemotional voice, "Your brother must smell worse than you do by now." A reference to the man which Hannibal had killed in Florence. Instantly Carlo had a blade against Hannibal's throat. He'd been in the act of insert an IV into his wrist, being none too gentle about the procedure. When he drew the knife back, there was only a small amount of blood, as Mason commanded him, via the intercom.

"No, no, no, no - don't hurt him."

Hannibal contiued to smile at the overwrought man.

Piero finished hanging a gilt-edged mirror that would afford Hannibal a view of his feet once they were in position for the boars, the better to watch them being devoured. He was listening to soccer game as he worked. It was being broadcast in Italian, the sound coming through a shortwave radio set upon a wooden table.

"And turn off that radio. I can't hear anything," Verger complained. Piero switched it off without comment.

Released to the wilds of the vast universes throughout time and dimensions, the invitations to the party are part Time Lord psychic paper tech and part good old magic. They don't have to appear in traditional guise, though they might be a colourful card or banner, a flying paper plane or possibly a delicate origami crane. These invites could be text via your cell or the phone itself, a surprise playback from a CD or DVD, part of a painting you've not noticed at the museum, the towel of a Hitchhiker or new info on his Guide, or anything at all relating to the invitee's own time and place in the scheme of everything that ever was, will be, is.

( Dear Recipient )



((OOC: Everyone is welcome to start their own subthread here. If anything occurs which a lot of people might notice, like the Weasley twins setting off fireworks lol, I'll be sure to point that out in the OOC comm. This doesn't mean the twins have to appear but they make such a good example of how to attract a lot of attention!))

Who: Clarice and Hannibal
What: Hannibal sneaks into her house late at night, while Clarice is sound asleep...
Where: Clarice's house (I believe it's in Arlington, VA?)
When: Set in the Hannibal movie, the night before he is captured in D.C.
Warnings: Some language maybe, other than that, nothing... yet ;)

Clarice stood in her kitchen, dim from the scarce light of twilight, trying to decide which kind of whiskey she wanted to drink this evening. She settled for Ten High, the cheap stuff. Fuck it, she was just drinking to take her mind off things and hopefully sleep. She took a small whiskey glass out, shutting the cabinet with a slam. Just thinking the name Paul Krendler made her want to vomit.

She hated the thought of sitting at home, unable to do her job. This unjust suspension was not going to be easy, and she knew she had to play her cards carefully. But she was certainly still going to play, all right, FBI or not.

She carried her glass of whiskey with no ice into the living room and stretched out in the recliner, replaying the recorded dialogues with Lecter over and over in her head. Sometimes, they were all she could hear. Right now, she took them willingly as a distraction from the day's debacle. It did not take long for the whiskey to go straight to her head, causing her eyes to droop. Lecter's voice and his intense, blue eyes were the last things she thought about before she passed out, the empty glass still in her hand.