{ It was somewhere around 1996. Sixteen years since he'd been first incarcerated, eight since he'd helped agent Clarice Starling with the Buffalo Bill case... And almost a year since he and you had fled.

Living in Argentina wasn't a bad way to live, but he had... A particular weakness for Europe, which caused him to suggest the two of you moved to Italy, which you had agreed to.

Living in a small village in Tuscany, Doctor Lecter spent his days showing you the pleasures of life, and at night, showing you his love. From the vineyards and horseback riding while watching the sunset, to the unfinished dinners where you and he became the main dish...

He loved spending his days with you. You were his muse, his inspiration, his nourishment. }

"—Seems you find yourself confortable, my love."

He said, quietly raising his eyebrow with a soft smile on his lips. He didn't usually see you near his instruments, let alone staring at his hapsichord. It was probably the one he held dearest, given its splendid sound, its design, and its history.

He brought the cup of glass in his hand closer to his lips, taking a small sip from his wine, as his maroon eyes looked at you, taking in your figure while the dim lights reflected in them in pinpoints of red. His gaze seemed to hug every curve of your body in an affectionate, loving way.

"—Would you like for me to teach you, dear?"