Hannibal took pride in the dishes he made. He loved watching faces light up as they take a bite into his plates—always decorating them in the most presentable manner. He also took pride in your wellbeing.

Being chained to a mattress on the floor—a bucket next to you so you could do your business—wasn’t an easy life and Hannibal knew that. Which is why he made your dishes extra special; making them with love more than usual.

He pours the wine into the searing pan cooking the steak he prepared for you. He sets the garnishes on the cutlet before setting it on a plate, spreading a Bigarade sauce around the steak to make it look artistic. He raises the plate, walking to your bed.

“I had hoped your stomach is empty—” Hannibal stops in his tracks, his optics pinned on the shackles—the loose shackles. This couldn’t be. He made sure that you had no access of escaping. He kept the keys from your vicinity, not letting you have any liquid while left unattended so you didn’t rust the cuffs. So how did you escape? "My, my. My little bunny has ran."