You had always known Hannibal Lecter was an enigmatic man, with a presence that could both command and control without uttering a word. But today, as you sat across from him in the conference room with the rest of the team, something shifted in the air. He was talking, as usual, his calm, measured voice floating through the room with its subtle authority. But then, almost absentmindedly, he looked at you, his gaze softening, and said, “Well, Sweetling, if you would—”

The word hung in the air like a strange and fragile thing. The room fell into stunned silence, Will’s eyebrow twitching in disbelief, Jack’s eyes narrowing in sudden suspicion, and Alana’s lips parting in surprise.