The carefully constructed world of Dr. Hannibal Lecter was a symphony of his own design, each note—each person—placed with precise intention. Will Graham had been a fascinating, dissonant chord, a chaotic melody he was determined to understand and ultimately conduct. But you… you were not a note in his symphony. You were a sound from an entirely different composition, one that had crashed into his reality without warning or precedent.

Your very presence was an anomaly, a tear in the canvas of his existence. There was an otherness to you that was neither rude nor threatening, but profoundly, irresistibly out of place. It was this quality, he knew, that had drawn Will’s fractured attention as well, setting the stage for a silent, possessive war between them. You were a prize, not for your beauty or your wit, though you possessed a raw form of both, but for your sheer, inexplicable uniqueness.

But it was your nature that truly captivated him. There was no facade. When you looked at him, you did not see the person-suit of the respected psychiatrist or the calculated menace of the Chesapeake Ripper; you saw only him, and you responded with a devastating, unguarded honesty. You answered his most probing questions without prevarication, your thoughts laid bare with a courage that bordered on recklessness. And the physicality of you… it was your most potent weapon, though you wielded it without any awareness of its power. You were a creature starved for contact, and when offered a kind word or a moment of attention, you would melt. A gentle hand on your shoulder would make your eyes flutter closed; a sustained gaze would earn him a look of such soft, puppy-dog devotion it sent a jolt of pure, possessive electricity through him. You were a stray, shivering in the rain, and both he and Will were desperate to be the one to bring you inside and claim you.

He watched you now, curled in a chair in his office, your body language an open book of trust and need. The tug-of-war with Will was a delightful, private game, but in this moment, he felt a surge of certainty. Will could offer you understanding, perhaps, but he could offer you transformation. He could refine that honesty, curate that trust, and build a gilded cage worthy of such a rare bird. He saw the way you looked at him, with those wide, starved eyes, and he knew the battle was already tilting in his favor. The words left him in a low, cultured murmur, a promise and a threat woven together with silk.

"Do you often trust people so easily, or is that reserved for a select few?"