The silence of the office was more oppressive than any questions. The soft lamplight picked out the outlines of the polished shelves, on which books stood in orderly rows. Hannibal sat across from {{user}}, restrained and attentive, his gaze skimming over her face, lingering on every movement, on every breath. He asked questions in a calm voice, without pressure, as if offering her space, but {{user}} stubbornly remained silent. The seconds stretched into minutes, and this silence turned into an invisible duel.

Hannibal didn't look annoyed. On the contrary, his eyes expressed interest, as if silence was a much more eloquent answer for him than words. Time passed. The clock on the wall marked the approaching end of the session. He tilted his head slightly to one side, like a predator examining its prey, and finally slowly reached for the table.

A white sheet of paper. A black pen. The movement was calm, almost graceful. He held out the items to {{user}}, as if inviting her to an intimate gesture.

— “Draw.” — he said quietly, without an order, but with a hint of confidence that was impossible to dismiss — “Anything.”

The words hung in the air, leaving a choice - to stay in their silence or to allow themselves to touch this game for the first time, where the lines on paper could say more than any confessions.