dr. hannibal lecter -- hannibal -- barways

[yelling_muse]

There are enough people from his world (or some version of it, at any rate) here so as to seem rather delightfully improbable

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[downsidedarling]

Eight-Hour has been around the bar a good bit more often recently than is her usual habit.

She doesn't double-take on seeing Doctor Lecter; his face is turned away and she was told to look for the eyes.

So when she takes a seat at a small table nearby, it's without a hint of wariness that she offers him a friendly smile over her cup of unadorned coffee, having already catalogued him as yet another harmless bar patron.

Not that, to Eights, there are any bar patrons you could really call harmful.

It's all in how you define harm, after all.

[dear_clarice]

Lecter replies with the polite sort of smile that could almost be taken for being genuinely harmless.

He really does blend in well with the rest of the bar. He doesn't have any particularly striking features upon first glance, but it's every second after it that reveals some small quirk about him.

Most people never try for a second look.

He briefly raises his wine glass (red) in greeting, before returning to his meal.

[downsidedarling]

Wine. Red.

Eyes. Red.

Eights grins broadly, sips her coffee, and considers how best to phrase her opening shot.

If you know how to read people, she looks cheerfully calculating, like she's planning the next move in a friendly game of chess.

[dear_clarice]

Chess it may be, but on Lecter's end, it isn't friendly per se. The fact that she's bothering to try to come up with a way to start a conversation suggests that she may have some business with him -- he wouldn't be surprised if Clarice and Will had been giving out warnings to stay away from him.

Of course, she might just be bored, but first of all, Lecter doubts it, and secondly, he really isn't the best person to ask for suggestions on what to do on a rainy day.

[anthropophilic]

From a booth Mallory sets aside the Sunday Daily News sudoku puzzle he was working (never the Times crossword, it's too hard) on and tilts his chin up to watch the older gentleman enjoying his meal with a slightly quizzical smile. It's always a point of interest to him when he sees a person eating in the bar. The assumed less-than-sanitary conditions. The glaring light. The noise of the usual crowd. The rats. There are so many distracting factors in this setting that would keep him from--

(--but the man isn't paying attention to all of that? or is he?)

So he watches until his question answers itself.

[dear_clarice]

The ability to feel another person's gaze is something that everyone has -- Lecter's sense of it is simply more acute than others'.

For all intents and purposes it seems that his full concentration is directed at his meal. He doesn't look up from his knife and fork, sparing only the occasional glance to locate his wine glass.

But it only takes four seconds before his dark maroon eyes flick up to meet Mallory's, and it takes no time at all for the polite smile to appear on his features.

[anthropophilic]

Matched (a few seconds later) by his own slightly crooked (friendly like a curious kid or someone's goofy chocolate Labrador) smile and agreeable nod.

[dear_clarice]

The Doctor is the sort who appreciates etiquette, so, as of yet, Mallory has only earned good marks in Lecter's book.

Still polite, "Good evening."

[effedlarrikin]

And Iskender, in the rafters peering down, isn't asking.

He is studying, though.

Intently.

(he isn't studying the meal, or the good doctor, but a spot slightly to the left)

[dear_clarice]

Lecter still notices.

A look up.

A quick calculation.

(The rafters are rather high up.)