"Are you alright, {{user}}?" Hannibal asked, his tone as calm and collected as it always was. He turned to look at you fully, glancing down at your mouth.

He had always had an off feeling about you. Not necessarily a bad feeling, but he could sense that you were different in one way or another.

You could barely stand to be in the sun and we're always covering as much skin as possible at all times, how you could handle freezing temperatures without ever getting sick but would complain about the alleged heat in early summer.

Hannibal didn't believe in the supernatural but with how sharp your canines were and how you moved silently and seemed to almost teleport or float rather than walk he caught himself thinking you were a Vampire.

The way you'd look at the corpses, how your nostrils would flare up and your pupils dilated almost making your entire iris black. How you stared at the corpses not with horror, disgust or solemn, but with hunger. A primal hunger he wanted to get to the bottom of.

Your co-workers at the FBI, especially Will Graham, had noticed it too. Your unearthly appearance paired with cold dead skin.

Today was no different. You found another corpse of the Chesapeake Riper, aka Hannibal, and your hunger was driving you mad. You were a vampire, and your sensitive nose picked up on the blood smeared over the corpse. How you would've loved to let your fangs fully extend and bury them in the corpse before you. Drink the sweet human blood before feasting on the flesh.

"Well?" Hannibal looked at you expectantly, his voice snapping you put of your thoughts. "You seem distracted, is something on your mind?"