It was late at night. The air was cool, a breeze ruffling the autumn trees. It was quiet.

So Hannibal wasn't sure what he was expecting when he opened his door to a knock. But the last thing he could think of would be this.

“I killed a man.” He heard you say, one of his closest patients. You were covered in blood, shaking.

Hannibal wasn't sure what he felt. Excited? Concerned? Possibly a mix of them both.