Clarice sighed as she applied the final touches to her makeup, barely glancing at her reflection before clasping a diamond bracelet around her wrist and a fixing on a matching necklace. Her dress was black, as were her shoes, but they were of a much higher calibre than anything she would buy for herself. In fact, her entire attire this evening had been gifts, arriving over the course of a few weeks with no note attached. She had said little to her new roommate regarding this, the girl would think she was insane, instead pretending that she had ordered them herself, hiding the designer labels as she did. She had opened each box, laboriously searching for some hint or sign from the sender, knowing before she did so she would find nothing. He was far too careful for such things nowadays, she thought ruefully. Why this disappointed her she did not know, a small part of her almost felt that by wearing them without being expressly told to, she was not following his rules. A small smile graced her face at this, a gift was a gift, and he would expect her to utilise his – whether or not it was accompanying him to the opera, or a night at a high end bar with her roommate was not for him to decide. Particularly when he couldn't even leave a note.

She slipped on the heels, a perfect fit – not that she expected anything less. It had been so long since she had worn such beautiful clothing, the memory of the last time still made her shudder; first, at the ingrained image of Paul's split open skull, then the bizarre heat between her and the doctor as he had trapped her hair and kissed her gently. This dress was not quite as revealing, the neckline plunged but only to accentuate her breasts rather than suggest they could be easily exposed like the previous one. The straps were thick across her shoulders, crossing behind her neck to leave the middle of her back exposed, clinging to the shape of her hips and her rear. There was a simple slit up to her mid-thigh, obvious only when she walked and her shapely legs moved the floor length fabric. He would have adored her in this.

"Clar! I'm ready when you are!" Her English roommate and newfound friend called up the stairs, surprising her into life away from Hannibal Lecter once more. She grabbed her clutch, dashed downstairs to her waiting companion and their taxi, and was on her way to her first night on the town in months.

"I love it here, it's truly magical." Kelly smiled at Clarice. The English girl was a constant source of humour to the ex-agent, she had expected her accent to irritate but instead found the lilt as charming as the girl herself. They were from entirely different worlds; Kelly was a well-travelled Art History graduate who had found herself in the U.S recently, after gaining a teaching job in one of the less funded universities. She brought up her work in conversation often, and Clarice often found it fascinating. Perhaps it reminded her of – she stopped her thought in its tracks, she knew why she enjoyed listening to the English accent speak of Italian art, of her trips around Europe studying the ancient artwork that Clarice knew little of in comparison.

"Do you like it, Clar?" Her roommate was staring at her intently, as she often did when Clarice seemed to be stuck in her own thoughts.

"Yeah! Yeah, sorry, I was-" she began, but stopped when Kelly held a hand up.
"Look, I know you've been a bit out of it lately, you've hinted a bit that you're hung up on some guy who isn't around anymore, but tonight needs to be about us! We deserve some fun, you working in that small town police station and me with all those – no offence – hick students!" Kelly giggled as she brandished two glasses of champagne for them. "Get this down you. You look phenomenal, by the way."

"Thank you," Clarice blushed slightly as she sipped at the bubbles.

"Come on Clar, let's go and dance!"

"I don't dance, Kelly, I fall over. Especially in these shoes."

Kelly rolled her eyes dramatically, used to Clarice's oddities by now, and accepted an offer to dance with a nearby woman instead. Gender seemed to have no hold on Kelly; she liked whomever showed her attention if they made her laugh, and this seemed to prove her popular with anyone. Clarice had no idea how people were so brave enough to go up to one another, knowing nothing of the person they were about to speak to, particularly between Kelly and other women. Clarice didn't understand how they simply knew there was an attraction, but she was beginning to understand there was a lot she would never comprehend about the attraction-centric world.

A few songs later, Kelly found Clarice perched on a tall bar stool with another glass of champagne in front of her. "Hey! You okay?" She asked, slightly breathless as the same woman from earlier clung to her waist.

"I'm good, honey. Drinking my bubbles," Clarice smiled at her friend, hiding that she would have preferred a triple Jack Daniels over ice. "You go have fun."

She sipped her way through her glass, and was debating what she should do with her evening when a hand brushed the bare skin of her back.

"Hey beautiful," a man slurred at her, entirely too close to her face for her liking. His breath reeked of cheap tobacco and even cheaper vodka. She recoiled slightly, her distaste clearly apparent upon her face. This was enough to turn his drunken leering to an expression of pure malice.

"Oh you think you're too good for me do you" He hissed into her ear. She was taken aback, never had she seen someone react this way so quickly.

"Listen, I'm just waiting for my friend. Back off" Clarice stated firmly. She didn't want trouble, but if necessary, she would break every bone in his body before she let him intimidate her. Rage bubbled inside her as he leaned closer still, both his hands now touching her, roaming her body. She shoved him away, and he stumbled backwards momentarily, before steadying himself on the bar. Fury crossed his already contorted features, and he started towards her again. She was ready for him, almost wishing it so that she could use her still-sharp reflexes to crush this pig of a man. He did not quite make it to her, however, as a figure that had quickly materialised next to her distracted her attention briefly, the man slipped in a large puddle of liquid that she had not noticed on the floor, landing hard on his back. The figure next to her motioned to the security to remove him, and he was quickly dragged from the establishment, slurring protests as he went. Clarice turned, ready to thank the person for coming to her aid, still slightly annoyed that she had not got the chance to –

"Hello, Clarice."

Her eyes met dark irises for the first time since that night. He had not changed much, perhaps a little more tanned than before. Her mouth parted slightly, but no noise escaped her. She was frozen in place, her prior instinct of fear around him not the issue, but sheer shock. A smile creeped onto his face as he held up an empty glass to the bartender, who nodded quickly and set to making him a fresh drink.

"I always think it a shame to waste good alcohol on the undeserving, but it was rather comical to watch him fall. Even if it was on the finest bottle of white this place has to offer." Doctor Hannibal Lecter smiled at Clarice as he accepted a new glass graciously, sipping it slowly.

"May I sit down, Clarice, or are you still battling your internal monsters?" He asked, sounding a mixture of amused and mildly irritated at her lack of response. "I had hoped for you to be a little more dramatic, given the last time we met, but no matter."

She shook her head slightly, "I could have handled that man you know."

He looked surprised that this was the only thing she could say, but followed suit nonetheless.

"Oh of that I have no doubt, Clarice." His fingers traced her arms, following the slight curve of her bicep.

"I did, however, think this establishment would benefit more by having a beautiful customer such as yourself remaining by its bar, not being dragged out by its security. While it truly… enrages… me to see such a vile creature touching you, and I can't say I wouldn't have enjoyed watching you break his bones, I would much rather your reputation in this small town remain intact. Or perhaps, I selfishly wanted to take the credit, become your hero, for once." His smile returned, and he held out his hand.

"Come, I have a private booth just over there."

"Why am I not surprised," she muttered, automatically accepting his hand to help her from the bar stool, and following him, one step behind, to the darkest corner of the bar. She had not noticed this seating area before, but she supposed that was the point.

He placed both their drinks down on the table and motioned for her to sit. She did, the cool leather against her back calming her slightly. What on earth was she doing sitting casually with this man?

Maybe it was the champagne.

He sat next to her, close enough that she could feel his body heat even through his suit jacket, but not quite touching. She found she wouldn't have minded.

"You look truly ravishing, Clarice." His eyes were roaming her body, before staring into her own, and she felt herself gasp slightly.

"Maybe I should go and find my friend-" she said quietly, finding herself focused entirely on his mouth, remembering briefly what those lips had felt like upon her own.

"As you wish, Clarice…" But she didn't move.

"Why are you here, Doctor?"

His hand covered hers gently.

"Don't think about it, Clarice." He breathed into her ear. He stood up, pulling her with him, and led her to the dancefloor.

With one hand pressed tightly to the small of her back, the other caressed her side. She stood for a second, before allowing herself to join her wrists behind his head, looking directly into his eyes, which seemed even darker than she had ever known them. He swayed her gently, and she followed.

She opened her mouth to query, but his fingers pressed to her parted lips before she could break the magic.