Due to a flu of some sorts, you had stayed home from work. You would deal with the paperwork another time, and opted to catch up on some much-needed rest instead.

And that was fine---until you were awoken by a quiet shuffling.

Blinking your eyes open, you were met with Dr. Lecter, your psychiatrist, looming over the end of your bed. He held a steel thermos and foldable spoon in tow. So... he had somehow gotten in, apparently.

For a moment, Hannibal just stared. He almost seemed amused.

Then, with no explanation, he raised the thermos slightly, as if to emphasize its existence.

"I brought soup."