Clarice Starling - Silence of the Lambs (post-canon) - now with continuity!

[mm_merky]

Clarice has gotten a room.

She got a room and some fresh clothes-- the blouse and businesslike pencil skirt are a major improvement over Pilcher's nightshirt, though she hardly thinks she can afford it all

Comments

[downsidedarling]

(ooc: If you're still open for tags... *beams*)

The sharp eye is noted, and has Eights wondering what's on this pretty stranger's mind.

She's seated at the bar, a tallish brunette in scruffy blue jeans and a rumpled old T-shirt, and when Clarice happens to glance her way she offers a friendly smile.

[no_more_chianti]

People sure are friendly around here.

Not that it's a bad thing-- in her current frame of mind it's a welcome relief. Clarice smiles back.

No harm in it.

[downsidedarling]

Eight-Hour has to keep reminding herself that in Milliways people don't know her.

A little ruefully, she tucks her hair behind her ear, glances from Clarice down to her drink (fruit smoothie) and back, and speaks.

"Hey. You new?"

Not I haven't seen you around here before, because Eights' visits here are rare. And not you move like you are, because people don't like to be read that clearly.

[no_more_chianti]

"Me?" Clarice says, though there isn't anyone else. "Yeah, actually. I got here the other night."

A pause.

"Do ... people usually come back, after they're been here once?"

[downsidedarling]

"Most of the time. I mean, I can't imagine why you wouldn't, right? And the door has a way of sneaking up on people."

Easy shrug.

"Why?"

[no_more_chianti]

"Oh," Clarice says, running a hand briefly through her hair. "I just wondered. I haven't gone back since I showed up ... and I'd like to be able to get here on a fairly regular basis, if I have to."

[downsidedarling]

"Yeah, it's a nice place, ain't it."

She grins, a friendly, open expression.

"I hear some people take a napkin or something with them when they go home, sort of a superstition thing, y'know? Keep the connection, or whatever. Dunno if it works. Me, I'm lucky. Door does what I tell it to, most days."

Her tone implies that things doing what she tells them to is pretty much par for the course.

[no_more_chianti]

... That doesn't strike Clarice as a half-bad idea, actually.

Her eyebrows arch.

"What you tell it to?"

[downsidedarling]

"If I open a door back home wanting it to lead to the bar, it does," she explains. "Simple as that. It just works that way for some people."

[no_more_chianti]

Clarice whistles.

"... Damn."

She hopes she gets that deal. As long as Lecter's going to keep coming here ...

Which reminds her.

"Oh. If you're-- a regular, here-- you ought to know about something."

[downsidedarling]

"Yeah?"

Eights looks interested.

"What, they put in a new set of mountains out back or something?"

[no_more_chianti]

That gives Clarice some pause; the look she gives Eights might be almost comically bewildered.

"... I wouldn't know," is what she says, after a moment. "No, ah-- there's someone here. I don't know if you'd have seen him around, but he's ... a very dangerous individual. Name of Hannibal Lecter."

[downsidedarling]

...all things considered, a giggle probably wasn't the expected reaction.

"Shit, honey, don't worry about me. Dangerous individual, huh?"

She's grinning, eyes bright, speaking through the remnants of her laughter.

"What kind? What's he look like? I'll keep an eye out."

[no_more_chianti]

Clarice's eyebrows arch.

She does not, exactly, take kindly to having warnings of Hannibal the Cannibal dismissed with giggles.

"Short, small frame-- graying hair," she says, perhaps a bit stiff. "His eyes are probably the most helpful identifying characteristic. They're ... a dark red. Maroon."

[downsidedarling]

"Red eyes." She smiles wryly. "Yeah, that'll do it. Thanks."

A duck of her head, down to look at that smoothie and back up again; in that short interval, her smile turns a little apologetic.

"Look, it's not--" Eights shakes her head once, briefly, and sighs. "Where I'm from, there are... a lot of dangerous people. I'm sort of used to them."

[no_more_chianti]

She frowns.

"Where are you from, exactly?"

She's thinking of gangs, and is preparing in her head to tell this woman that Lecter is much worse than any thug.