Dr. Hannibal Lecter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cook_the_rude) wrote2013-08-17 06:03 pm
cook_the_rude) wrote2013-08-17 06:03 pm
Third session with Kate Barlow
After two impromptu sessions with Kate behind the stables, Dr. Hannibal Lecter has organised a small office for himself in Milliways. "I would feel better for your sake if there were no chance of anybody happening upon us as we talk," he explains when he collects her from the stables. "A psychiatrist's office must be a safe space, with no interruption, where the patient can let go and emerge, safely fortified to meet the world again, after catharsis."
When she follows him, she will find the office upstairs, near the library, in an area of the non-linear rooms section that feels more business-like because of that location; it is small but functional, with clean-lined modernist furniture made of pale wood contrasting with the 18th and 19th century prints of horses, maps and cityscapes in ornate frames that adorn the walls. There are two comfortable chairs with end-tables, a small book-case, and a pale leather couch. There is a small drawing table with two straight-backed chairs that, at this moment, holds nothing but a flower arrangement. There are two doors, one slightly ajar to reveal a tiny pantry kitchen, the other firmly closed, with a covered lock that clearly labels it a bathroom door, lockable from the inside.
There are two floor-length windows obscured by pale, gauzy blinds, at the bottom of which a balcony is visible, and beyond its grate, the lake area, with a view to the stables, the garden, and the forge.
A tall carafe of cool water, two glasses, and a box of tissues in a metal holder are set out.
"Please take a seat, Kate," Dr. Lecter says.
When she follows him, she will find the office upstairs, near the library, in an area of the non-linear rooms section that feels more business-like because of that location; it is small but functional, with clean-lined modernist furniture made of pale wood contrasting with the 18th and 19th century prints of horses, maps and cityscapes in ornate frames that adorn the walls. There are two comfortable chairs with end-tables, a small book-case, and a pale leather couch. There is a small drawing table with two straight-backed chairs that, at this moment, holds nothing but a flower arrangement. There are two doors, one slightly ajar to reveal a tiny pantry kitchen, the other firmly closed, with a covered lock that clearly labels it a bathroom door, lockable from the inside.
There are two floor-length windows obscured by pale, gauzy blinds, at the bottom of which a balcony is visible, and beyond its grate, the lake area, with a view to the stables, the garden, and the forge.
A tall carafe of cool water, two glasses, and a box of tissues in a metal holder are set out.
"Please take a seat, Kate," Dr. Lecter says.
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"Sometimes I wonder if you're really jus' tryin' t'keep me hydrated."
Perhaps he's in cahoots with Guppy.
The cynicism is chased with a shy nod. She reaches for a water glass, hands trembling deftly. These sessions are having an effect on her, she just doesn't know what to make of it yet.
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"I think you're takin' more outta me than that."
Her voice is low, tired, but not angry. For someone who isn't used to talking about her feelings, these visits test more than just her emotional limits.
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"All right, I s'pose that's fair. What am I s'posed t'do now?"
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She'd be lying if she didn't say she was a little relieved. It'll take a good while before she's completely calm again. Looking out the window, she realizes she's got plenty of light to take Beaut for a run.
That'll help.
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"I can't imagine what you're learnin' from all this, but thank you all the same."
She finishes her water, lets out a cleansing breath, and rises to her feet.
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"That's the greatest truth I've heard all day. Y'must be a truly brave soul t'take on the end of the universe."
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"Lemme know if that changes."
She'd hope she's not that much of a handful, but you never can tell. Anyhow, it's as much a joke as she can muster at the moment.
She bows her head.
"Thank you. Next week, then?"
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"Next week, same time, same place," he says. "Yes."
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"I'll be here."
Come hell or high water.