Dr Lecter’s office is the pinnacle of perfection. He demands it. Every surface is dusted until not a speck remains, every object placed perfectly straight with care. It is meticulous, as Hannibal is meticulous.

Hannibal sits at his desk, the lamp turned on, illuminating the expanse of paper stretched across the wood. He sketches, the strokes of his pencil as carefully arranged as everything else about him.