When it came right down to it, he was nothing if not seasoned in the fine art of holding life in his hands, and then ripping it away with an unapologetic swiftness. Whether it be a patient in his care when he was an active surgeon, not unfamiliar to a mistake being made here and there on his part, or on his own time, when his rather eccentric hobby of hunting down his next meal required strangling the life out of the dish with his bare hands. Despite the details of the situation, Hannibal Lecter was above all, highly trained in his field of closing the airway, thus stealing the breath of someone he hardly knew beyond the parameters of them being 'rude'.

But he never thought he could have his own breath stolen.

And yet, it happened, right there in his favorite cafe. He had a weak spot for coffee that didn't taste like dried coffee beans floating in warm spit (as most coffees did), and as he watched the man who made him forget how to breathe enter his caffeinated safe haven, he added yet another item on his list of things to be grateful for that the cafe had given him. The first item on that list being providing those around him ample opportunity to disrespect him in some way. Need it be a distasteful tone directed towards him or a badly timed roll of the eyes, those who had wronged him were promptly signing their own names on his menu. The second item on that list being providing him with coffee that was actually drinkable. The third, free wi-fi.

He watched as the man with the mess of brown curls and the piercing, grey eyes that flickered around the room, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, slowly scanned the room. The stubble on his face surrounding thin, pink lips complemented his jaw structure beautifully, and the individual features of the man's countenance came together in such a way that he gave Adonis himself a run for his money. The man looked to him the way a good symphony sounded, and his presence was quickly moved to the number one position on his list.

He continued to watch as his new muse looked around the room, presumably looking for someone in particular. His coffee eventually grew cold as he watched, as his love for admiring pretty things overrode his love for good coffee. He imagined this stranger being used in different ways, as different media, his brain rapidly envisioning him sketching and painting this stranger's naked body. Or better yet, him using the man's own blood as paint, being careful not to shade too much as his model would be pale, bereft of blood. At the very least, he felt as though he deserved to mount this man's head on his wall, in such a way that he could admire him everyday, as one would for the head of the majestic buck that one had honored every part of.

It was then when he realized those eyes he was so taken with were now making contact with his own, and his breath was stolen a second time.

This was an interesting development, as he had not seen the man make eye contact with anyone else in the crowded cafe, let alone begin to approach them, as he was doing so now. Had the man noticed him staring and would now confront him on it? Hannibal hoped not. Not because he was afraid of this stranger or even ashamed of his staring, or rather, admiration, but he didn't want to be chewed out by this man then be obligated to slay him for his rudeness. What a shame it would be to overlook a gem amongst rocks.

The man, dressed in a tacky flannel shirt, grease stained jeans, and a jacket that was one size too big for him, Hannibal noted, had arrived at his table in the corner of the cafe. During his trek over he had lost and regained eye contact with him no less than ten times, whereas Hannibal watched his prey as a predator would: motionless. The man was fidgety and unsure with his movements, convincing Hannibal that this would be easy prey indeed.

"Um, sorry to bother you," came the voice that was much deeper than anticipated, "but I saw you in here the other day and I recognized you. Dr. Lecter, correct? Author of that best-selling psychology book?"

It was all Hannibal could do to avoid showing how delighted he was at the praise, feeling much like a bird whose vibrant feathers had finally gotten the attention he so deserved. He merely nodded in accordance.

"I knew it!" A smile spread across his face, and Hannibal was taken aback at such childlike glee. "I researched you and found no pictures, but several sources said you lived around here, and yesterday when I saw you, you just had this air of elegance about you that fit the profile and I just, I just had to see if I was right." His voice dropped in volume as he ended his spiel, eyes turning to stare at his feet as red tinted his cheeks. "Sorry, I, uh, got a bit excited." The awkward laugh that followed as he scratched his neck amused Hannibal. This man was truly a contradiction, easily excitable towards complete strangers yet seemingly lacking the social skills to talk for long periods of time. He needed to get a closer look.

"Where are my manners?" said Hannibal after a long pause, "Please, do sit down."

Either his Lithuanian accent or his common courtesy caught the man by surprise, as his eyebrows shot up while he nonetheless took a seat in the chair opposite him.

"Is there anything I can get for you, Mr...?"

"Graham," he coughed to clear his throat, "Will Graham. Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Lecter." They shook hands, finally formally acquianting themselves. "And no, that won't be necessary. But thank you! For the offer. I'm not really a coffee person, I prefer tea, but that's besides the point. I have to go soon but, um, there is something I would like to discuss with you. If you have time, that is."

He took a glimpse at his watch, as if he didn't already know he was free the whole day. He moreso just wanted to make a point that his time was valuable.

"Yes, I suppose I have the time. What seems to be the problem?"

Will let out a breath, it was less of a sigh and more of a release of bottled up tension.

"I have these... issues, so to speak. They've been... keeping me up at night, and distracting me from my... work." He paused at odd places, as if mentally debating what parts of his story he would leave out. "Long story short, I believe, or, well, I'm told that I am quite... unstable," he said the word as though it left a bad taste in his mouth, "and I was strongly persuaded to seek help for said... issues."

He paused to let his words sink in.

"You require my psychological expertise, correct?" He couldn't help but slide in the underlying compliment to himself, as he was a psychological expert in his own opinion and a strong believer of giving credit where credit is due.

The corner of Will's lips quirked up and he nodded his head.

"Well..." He took his time responding, as if deeply pondering where he would get the time to fit this patient into his 'busy' schedule. In reality, his psychiatric license had been suspended because of some of the 'unorthodox' methods he used, but what Will didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Yet. "I suppose I can squeeze you in for an hour on Fridays. How does that sound?"

The small smirk turned into a full blown grin, accompanied by an escaped laugh or two. "That sounds perfect, Dr. Lecter."

Despite himself, Hannibal couldn't help but return his smile with one of his own, and this caught him by surprise. Ordinarily, he had to force himself to make his face react appropriately in public with well timed smiles, smirks, frowns, and eye brow raises. If he didn't keep complete control of his features, his non-stop tendency to imagine slaughtering everyone in the room twice over would surely show up on his face, and people would be crying 'cannibalistic serial killer' faster than he could make amends.

But with Will, he felt his face relax, going into a sort of autopilot of human emotion and reacting to Will's peculiar nuances naturally and without thought as they continued their conversation. They talked about their differing tastes in music, Will favoring contemporary but still having an appreciation for classical, whilst Hannibal was the exact opposite. He was just about to invite Will to see an opera with him that he planned to attend next week when they were interrupted.

Rude.

"Honey," came the whiny voice of the man who suddenly appeared at their table, dark brown hair cut short and styled, dressed in a tailored, blood red suit and black tie. "You said this would only take a second. It's been hours!" His tone was dramatic and the man unashamedly whipped out the pouty lip and the puppy dog eyes, a defense he seemed accustomed to and one that worked well with his too blue eyes. He put his hand on Will's shoulder and squeezed, hard enough that actual pain was visible on Will's face. Hannibal, however, was ever so thankful for the gesture, as it gave him all the more reason to take his time when he killed this man slowly.

And he would do so, ever so slowly. Maybe even before his appointment with Will.

"It has not been hours," Will maneuvered himself out of the death grip from this put together man. What this man lacked in manners he surely made up for in style, and Hannibal could appreciate that in some aspect. "It's been roughly ten minutes, you know that."

"I knooooow but you promised we'd have time to get frozen yogurt before the movie!"

Hannibal, remembering he needed to control his murderous expressions like yesterday, quirked an amused eyebrow at the petulant request and pointedly looked at Will. Turning crimson from embarrassment, Will sputtered, "S-sorry, Dr. Lecter, where are my manners? Alan, this is Hannibal Lecter, critically acclaimed author and my new psychiatrist," Hannibal sat up even straighter at the introduction, pride filling his system, "Dr. Lecter, this is Alan Bloom," he paused as if searching for the proper words, "my boyfriend."

And with those two words Hannibal's spirit crumpled. Despite having met the man hardly ten minutes ago, he had already grown so fond of Will, for Will was his. Will, with his beautiful face and odd behavior and underused social skills was his fruit to be harvested, ripe for the picking. And whatever Hannibal wanted, he often got, need it be expensive paintings or a particularly rude politician (and it was always tricky to not leave paper trails while hunting down that particular scum of the earth), so he was certain that Will would be no different.

None of this showed on his face though, being too skilled in the art of deceit to falter so easily when it was time to play his role. The relationship between Will and this Alan character would not last long if he had something to say about it.

The thought made him smile.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Bloom."

The grin Alan gave him contradicted his prior childlike behavior so completely it was almost startling. His all-knowing smile suggested that he saw through Hannibal's facade, just a little, and knew of his feelings for Will. "Likewise," he said with a smile that made the Cheshire cat jealous.

"So tell me," said Hannibal, growing uncomfortable and hating that he felt out of control, "How did you two meet?"

Alan released an excited gasp while the sigh that escaped Will was long suffering.

"We actually started as a doctor patient type relationship. Isn't that funny?" The direct eye contact he made with Hannibal was taunting, as if he was instead saying 'I got to him first. What are you gonna do about it?' "At the time, he was going through some serious psychological problems because of his job and his boss recommended he see me! It was like he was Humpty Dumpty and I was the guy they called after 'all the kings men' gave up!" He then dissolved into a fit of laughter, as if the demise of Will's mental state was a long forgotten joke that had just been retold.

Will was looking anywhere but at Hannibal, presumably for a knife to end his suffering.

"But yeah, long story short," Alan continued, wiping away tears from laughing so hard, "It was like love at first sight. He is insanely handsome, if you haven't noticed, and I suppose he has a thing for people who can understand the inner workings of his brain, y'know?" Another pointed look at Hannibal and this time he was sure he was being mocked. Will looked insanely uncomfortable, as if with each word Alan was spewing he was also laying out pieces of Will's dirty underwear on the table for all to see. Alan seemed to notice this discomfort, so he did what he could to wipe it off his face.

He kissed him.

He kissed him, and Hannibal saw red.