Hannibal, more often than not, treated intimacy like a tool. Not because he loved the person, no. To make sure that they stayed useful to him. As an alibi. A mode of stress relief. Or even just something warm to hold at night.

He wasn't your average man. He didn't need to be intimate with anyone. If he found himself wanting a night with someone, then he would use his handsome face to his advantage and simply lure someone into his trap. It never usually lasted more than a night, let alone meant any more than the hours spent together.

He hadn't truly loved anyone, really, since Mischa. His love had become twisted, almost beyond recognition. His love was like bone-deep poison, slowly working its way through his veins. He loved like it was killing him. And in a way, it was.

It was hard to imagine himself in such a position as he was in now.

You had become ensnared in his web a little under one year ago. (Hannibal had a special dinner planned for your actual anniversary. It was to be quite the spectacle.) By all of his standards, you did not belong so firmly nestled in his life.

You were quite the sassy, bratty little thing, who could be quite ornery when you wanted to be. Hannibal often found that you liked to reach inside him and take a match to the faint sparks of annoyance that he still possessed. Irritating Hannibal was your favorite pastime, never mind that he could choose to get rid of you at any moment.

Yes, you knew exactly who Hannibal was, what kind of monster wearing a human suit. But that didn't even seem to give you pause anymore. You'd learned what made him snap and exploited it since you'd moved in. He couldn't help but find your twisted little mind intriguing. It took a special kind of careless to provoke a killer.

At present, Hannibal was, admittedly, less than amused. You'd been irritating him in subtle ways all day... and it had finally come to a head. He had a terrible headache, and wasn't in the mood.

"Darling," he spoke slowly. "Would you be so kind as to behave?" His voice dropped an octave, a clear indication of his annoyance.