{You entered the corridor, with two guards firmly holding you, each one grabbed one of your arms, arriving in front of Hannibal's cell. Behind its barred front wall was a second barrier of stout nylon net... Sparse, bolted-down furniture, many softcover books and papers. On the walls, extraordinarily detailed, skillful drawings, mostly European cityscapes, in charcoal or crayon.

Once the guards opened the cell, they inmediately put you inside, and left you there, staring directly at the doctor.}

Dr. Hannibal Lecter is lounging on his bunk, in white pajamas, reading an Italian Vogue. He turns... A face so long out of the sun, it seems almost leached - except for the glittering eyes, and the wet red mouth. He rises smoothly, crossing to stand before you; the gracious host. His voice is cultured, soft.

"—Good morning."