Prologue To a series of Incidents:

Somewhere near Los Angeles, California:

Hannah was sitting in the kitchen of her house, it was her day off from work, and she was enjoying a book and a martini when the door bell rang. Either one of her sons would have just walked in, and she wasn't expecting any guests. It was the postal man, who handed her a heavy, large cardboard box almost entirely wrapped with packing tape. She signed for it, though she had no idea what it was. It was a brown cardboard box, addressed to her address, in scribbly handwriting. Return address? Somewhere in England. It was really heavy, yet had no fragile stickers put on it. The postage label said it cost a small fortune to ship all the way to southern california. It was her first thought to wait for Alois to get home before touching it, or to check to make sure it was really meant to be there. She after all, wanted to respect his privacy, he was almost eighteen years old, and he was enough of a man to get mail without his mother checking through it. Still, she worried about it. Wouldn't he tell her if he was expecting mail? He usually did.

Did Alois order something on the internet? Did Alois's boyfriend send him something? Hannah knew he had returned home for the summer, to his home in england, and that he and Alois skyped every single night. Hannah had let him room with them this past semester, but he had never sent them anything but letters before. She didn't think he would waste his time sending Alois such a heavy thing in the mail if he could just bring it with him at the start of the semester. This was a large box. Something metal rattled inside. Why such a large box? Why metal? Hannah had to know. She set the box on the kitchen counter, then found the boxcutter. She slices open the packing tape. It was filled with crumpled news papers. She set them aside and reached into the box and pulled out a pair of metal handcuffs. This is what made that metal clanging sound. Handcuffs. Not the toy variety, either. They looked like police grade hand cuffs. And rope. And several other things which Hannah did not want to think about.

Oh no. OH HEEELLL NO. That boy is getting a stern talking to when he gets home from classes. Hannah knew that blue-eyed, gray haired goth boy was trouble. Oh sure, he was nothing but polite and reserved, a real english gentleman. He met Alois at college, he was a marketing major. From a real, high class rich family, apparently he was from old-school aristocracy. Had a family mansion that dated back to the victorian era and everything. But handcuffs? On her baby? Nope. That boy is out of here. Hannah doesn't care how cute, or rich or charming he is. She will not stand for that kind of influence on her son. She was fuming. She had half a mind to send Alois a text message to come home right now, she doesn't care if he's busy at work, he's to get his ass here this very instant if he has half a mind to know what is god for him. But the door bell rings, again, and and so help him if it's the deliver man again. Thankfully, for Alois's sake, it's not him, but a distinguished looking gentleman in a suit.

"Excuse me," he said. He was tall, and handsome, with brown hair. He was a bit intimidating but he had he kind of charm that any man with a lot of power would have. Everything about him seemed strong and just a bit aloof. He was nothing short of really handsome. Hannah could see herself asking this man out on a date some time, to break that icy yet inviting exterior of his. Goodness knows, it's been awhile. He looked like a businessman who was in the wrong business, or a very successful model. Then again, if he were a model, Hannah surely would have met him at her agency at some point in time. What Hannah assumed as being his black convertible was parked by the house next door. The one with the 'for sale' sign in front of it.

"My family moved here yesterday, and we had some of our personal belongings sent through the mail and I may have mistakenly wrote down the wrong address on one of them because I was a in rush. I was wondering if you by chance, have received any of my things. The return address should be from London," he said. Hannah's mind clicked. In a second she was relieved that her son was still pure of mind, but immediately suspicious of this man. This man landed right on her to-be-wary list. He set Hannah's motherly protective instinct off, and she was quite unhappy that he would be living next door to them. He spoke like he was bothered by the situation. Like he wanted to get out of this situation as soon as possible. Like he was doing something suspicious.

"Was it a box of hand cuffs and rope?" Hannah asked, her tone was a bit stern.

"Yes," he replied hesitantly. He looked away from her, clearly put off by the situation.

Foreign accent, likely european? Check. Polished and polite exterior? Check. Handsome, even charming? Check. An entire box full of hand cuffs, ropes, and things Hannah did not even want to think about? Check. Hannibal Lecter had officially moved into the house next door.
"Oh my god, he's a serial killer," Hannah muttered quietly to herself after she closed the door.

And so begins, a large series of sometimes fun, and sometimes idiotic misunderstandings.