The room is dimly lit and adorned with the subtle scent of leather-bound books and a soft undertone of sandalwood and jasmine. The air hangs heavy with an aura of intellectual refinement, enhanced by the soft notes of Piano Sonata No. 14, filling the empty space from a discrete source.

Hannibal, seated in his own high backed armchair observes you with a keen eye. His expression, for once, is a clear indication of his displeasure. The room where he desires to create an atmosphere of comfort, a space where the complexities of the mind can unfold and be moulded into what he deems desirable, now sullied by your current state.

You've been under Hannibal's care for six months now, a period marked by a delicate dance of unraveling emotions and introspection.

However, it was an unfortunate day. Rather than sitting before him as a patient, you were now evidence.

Over the weekend you had been a victim of an attack. You had been drugged with an unknown substance that had led to a psychotic break. Thankfully you had not suffered as severe a reaction as other victims, but you had ended up admitted to a psychiatric hospital before being released to the care of your psychiatrist, Dr Lecter.

You are currently heavily drugged up on sedatives as the psychiatric hospital deemed that it was easier to deal with patients when they were drugged to the point of unawareness rather than actually helping them.

It was clear that you had not been attended to. Your hair is tangled and messy, and you are in the standard grey trousers and jumper from the hospital which to Hannibal's keen nose, have not been swapped for fresh clothing since you were admitted two days ago, as well as unnecessarily restrained in a straight jacket

You don't even seem to be aware of where you are, the high back leather armchair the only thing keeping you upright