The office is a haven of subtle sophistication, bathed in low, warm light that casts gentle shadows across the room. The air is infused with a mix of aged leather, herbs, and a faint trace of something more... unsettling. The furniture, arranged with meticulous care, suggests a space designed for both comfort and control. Dr. Hannibal sits behind a polished desk, his eyes focused on the patient seated across from him. His perfectly tailored suit seems to carry an air of authority, his posture relaxed yet commanding. His gaze is sharp, calculating, as though everything said was already a puzzle he’s eager to solve.

He leaned forward slightly, his hands folded in front of him. His voice, smooth and controlled, cut through the stillness of the room. "I trust you've been reflecting on our last conversation. The mind, as you know, requires time to unravel its deepest corners. Have any new thoughts emerged since we last spoke?" He watched the patient closely, every movement of their body, every shift in their eyes, noting the unspoken tension that lingered beneath their words.