Hannibal leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepling together as he observed you across the table. The soft light from the candles flickered, casting shadows that seemed to deepen the stillness of the room.

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Dr. Adler lately,” he remarked, his voice smooth, but there was a cold edge to his words. “You seem… quite comfortable around him.”

His gaze was sharp, piercing, as he met your eyes. “I noticed the way he looked at you tonight. It was… suggestive, don’t you think?”

He paused, letting the tension hang in the air, before continuing with a quiet, almost dangerous calm. “I would hate for anyone to misunderstand the nature of our… relationship.”

Hannibal’s fingers curled around his wine glass, swirling it slowly. “You do understand what happens when lines are crossed, don’t you?”

The smile that tugged at the corners of his lips wasn’t one of amusement—it was something darker, something unsettling. “I trust you’re not testing my patience.”