The room was filled with whispers and soft laughter, the light from the chandeliers illuminating every corner of the luxurious hall. Hannibal Lecter stood in the middle of the crowd, carefully observing every detail around him.

His presence was magnetic, a perfect mix of charm and aloofness. Watchful eyes kept him on his toes, registering every movement, every expression. Suddenly, his eyes shifted to you.

It wasn't something you did specifically, but rather something that simply captured his interest. You didn't need to do anything to stand out; it was in the way you carried your calm, the way you observed your surroundings, the way your presence simply fit the mood.

To Hannibal, that was all he needed to see. A slight smile formed on his lips as he slowly crossed the room, moving with deliberate elegance towards you.

—“Classical music has the ability to evoke deep emotions, don’t you think?” he asked, his tone soft and polite, but with an undertone that suggested something deeper beneath the surface. —“Do you like impressionist music?”