This is my first fanfiction ever, so I hope you enjoy! I'm not sure if I'm going to continue, even if I have a lot of ideas right now, so please review with your opinion! Any critic is welcome (as long as you keep it clean). This is a Hannibal/Reader fanfiction, I guess? The reader sort of has a background story though. I hope you like it! Please review!

She waited patiently by the window, watching the hail intensely as she sat in the empty waiting room. The stones hit the glass rhythmically, yet creating a unique composition. The sky was starting to get dark. Her eyes had been fixed on the same point; she had to remind herself to blink from time to time. The scene that had haunted her in her dreams kept replaying in her mind, her vision becoming blurred by sights of blood and confusion.

A voice rose smoothly from beside her, and she turned her head around to find a tall man in a suit bending towards her, a friendly smile escaping his lips. His face was ageless; he could have been fifty or thirty. His almost-grey hair was combed perfectly on the side, but his eyes didn't speak. He reached a hand towards her as she came back to earth, and she blushed at the sight of his action. Never had she seen anyone do that; at least not in this century… Nevertheless, she placed her hand in his, still not standing up. His hand was rough, unexpected, and she flinched slightly at the touch of his freezing fingertips.

"Miss _? Can you hear me?" he repeated, a frown slowly forming on his face. His face was close to hers, but not so close as to make her uncomfortable. The only wrinkles visible were the ones he had just formed on his forehead, along with the ones shaping his mouth and small ones in the corner of his eyes.

She blinked rapidly and responded as fast as she could.

"Y… Yes. I was lost in thought for a moment, sorry, Mr Lecter."

He straightened up, and she followed his action by standing. He replied in an accent she couldn't recognise, accentuating certain syllables. However, he spoke smoothly, and his voice was pleasant to her ears.

"No need to apologize. And please forgive me for the late appointment; I'm usually on time. Shall we go in?" he said, gesturing with his other hand to the door.

"It's fine, honestly. I really didn't see the time pass." she said, more to herself than anyone. He released her hand and she followed him as he re-entered the room he had just exited. She took a few steps, looked around and found herself mouth half open, admiring the space. It was the most beautiful room she had ever seen; everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle. The colours used were red, black and gold and looked magnificent against the little furniture placed in the centre; two chairs and a small sofa beside, lined with a couple of small tables, smaller than the chairs. A desk also stood at the far end, and art crafts decorated the room. The lightning was dim, just a little brighter than outside – "nothing surprising for a therapy room", she thought to herself. Wide, clear windows were half covered with blood red, thick, curtains.

But the most surprising were the books. An entire wall of books lay above their heads, opposite the door's wall, where a glass cabinet stood. A ladder lay against the levitating floor. The sight was exquisite, a delicious dish able to be tasted with her eyes.

She looked back at him, remembering to press her lips shut again. He stood in the very centre of the room, his hands in his trouser pockets. He seemed to be one of the pieces of the room's puzzle. Without it, it wouldn't be complete. Only now she noticed how he as dressed; he wore a dark plaid suit, which she usually didn't agree on for men, but it suited him. Like his face, it didn't have a single wrinkle too much and even the tissue in his blazer pocket was folded to perfection. His mouth curled into a smile and she couldn't help but notice he had very nice lips.

"Shall we sit?"

He gestured her to a chair, as he took the one opposite.

They stared at each other while she sat, her body leaning forwards, fingers tangled, uncomfortable, and he sat straight-up, legs crossed, still as a statue. After a couple of seconds of her eyes darting around the room again and his watching her intensely, he spoke gently:

"How are you?"