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Post by Thatcher on Apr 9, 2007 23:43:23 GMT -5
"If he may believe she cares for him, he is a fool, and fools are easily persuaded to feel, or think they feel, many things."
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Post by Dr. Fell on Apr 9, 2007 23:45:41 GMT -5
“Perhaps. Such things are difficult to say without a proper analysis of the good doctor. Hardly something I am at liberty to suggest. I’m sure you can understand my position.”
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Post by Thatcher on Apr 9, 2007 23:48:03 GMT -5
"Naturally," *said Thatcher, biting back a yawn. He wished Lecter might get to his point, for all this banter was making him feel rather sleepy.* "What might you wish to know of this other doctor, specifically, sir?"
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Post by Dr. Fell on Apr 9, 2007 23:50:02 GMT -5
*Hannibal thought on that particular question a good while.*
“I want to know what he wants from his time here. I want to know what risks he is willing to take and why. I want to know his weaknesses and his interests. And I want to know about this patient.”
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Post by Thatcher on Apr 9, 2007 23:51:04 GMT -5
"In short, everything there is to know, then?" *Thatcher nodded.* "It can be done." *He rubbed lightly at his brow.*
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Post by Dr. Fell on Apr 9, 2007 23:54:26 GMT -5
“Indeed.”
*Hannibal paused, swirling the remnants of wine about his glass before looking back up to Thatcher.*
“I don’t mean to question your abilities, I’m sure they are superb, but at the cost if all of my files, I should very much like to know how you would intend to collect such information.”
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Post by Thatcher on Apr 9, 2007 23:57:05 GMT -5
"Could you not keep copies, man? I do not mean to deprive you of your livlihood." *Thatcher shook his head, the growing dizziness fading for only a moment.* "I have quite the network of spies in the city, sir. I could have him followed, have his home searched--he should never be aware of anything out of the ordinary. My men are skilled."
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Post by Dr. Fell on Apr 10, 2007 0:04:29 GMT -5
“Copies. Well yes. But you would have them too. That hardly makes them as valuable to me in the long run. But I digress. You are no doubt a most clever man. You seem well organized with a fine syndicate at your disposal. I certainly did not mean to question your abilities. I think we might prosper together, you and I.”
*He lifted the bottle.*
“More wine?”
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Post by Thatcher on Apr 10, 2007 0:07:53 GMT -5
*Thatcher's head pounded, and the room slipped rapidly in and out of focus.*
More wine...wine...the wine...
*As everything spun, his gaze snapped up to meet Lecter's, and he grinned at his discovery.*
"...Poison?" *he said, almost disbelievingly.* "You would...poison?" *he shook his head again and laughed, now, long and deeply.* "Poison ME?" *his laughter verged on the maniacal as the edges of his vision became tinged with black.*
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Post by Dr. Fell on Apr 10, 2007 0:11:02 GMT -5
*Hannibal shook his head slowly, disbelieving, as he continued to enjoy his dinner and his wine as if nothing were more normal.*
“Poison? I would never poison you sir. It would hinder the rest of the process.”
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Post by Thatcher on Apr 10, 2007 0:16:20 GMT -5
*Thatcher stood unsteadily, knocking over his chair and clutching at the edge of the table, sending china and glass crashing to the floor.*
"You can do NOTHING to me, you pathetic--" *He fell to his knees, but held Lecter's gaze.* "Nothing of consequence..." *he panted, even as everything went black and he collapsed upon the floor amidst the shards of glass and remaining pieces of roast.*
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Post by Dr. Fell on Apr 10, 2007 0:21:45 GMT -5
*Hannibal sighed and set down his silverware, placing his napkin on his plate and standing slowly to walk over to Thatcher. He knelt beside him, observing him coolly.*
“Nothing indeed. Don’t worry; you’ll live for a while longer. It’s important to have fresh ingredients. I’ll start with the ones that you don’t really need.”
***COMPLETELY NON-SEXUAL FADE OUT. FOR PROTECTION FROM GROSS CANNIBAL CARVING THINGS***
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Post by Thatcher on Apr 10, 2007 0:33:04 GMT -5
***FADE IN ON A SCENE THAT STILL MANAGES TO BE SEXY***
*Thatcher awoke slowly, first noting that he felt very cold, and wore no clothing. He grimaced, and tried to sit up, only to go rigid with excruciating pain. He winced, barely able to catch his breath, much less bellow at the pain lancing through his lower body. He opened his blurred eyes and blinked to clear them, seeing a precise incision on one side of his toned abdomen. He swore through gritted teeth and jerked against the cold metal clasps upon his wrists and ankles, heavy chains binding him to the sturdy bed that was the only occupant of the bare and small room, lined with thick canvas that Thatcher saw was spattered with blood. A locked closet on one side of the room held but passing interest for him as all he could focus upon was the agony searing his belly. He bit back a groan as he looked at the wound, seeping blood.*
Come on...you're an immortal...there has to be something... *he focused his mind upon his immortality, and burst of warmth shot through the gaping wound. He let out a snarl of rage against the pain for a moment, until it faded, and he noted with cold satisfaction that the wound seemed to close in on itself, the skin melding seamlessly back together, the muscle and sinew bonding as though never torn apart.
Within moments, there remained no trace of the ravaging of flesh but the blood upon the bed and canvas. Thatcher lay back, nearly spent with the effort of healing himself, panting heavily and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.*
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Post by Dr. Fell on Apr 10, 2007 0:51:17 GMT -5
*The most delightful smells permeated the apartment. Hannibal hummed to himself as he made his way down the hall to the spare bedroom and entered carrying a glass of water and some bandages. He set the glass down on the floor and turned to Thatcher with a touch of concern.*
“Good morning, sir. I hope you slept well. I am so sorry I ran off on you like that. I didn’t want anything to burn. And look, I brought some new bandages for you. It wouldn’t do to have you bleeding out on me…”
*He motioned to press them against Thatcher’s skin. Then the wave of confusion rippled his face slightly. He rubbed his fingers lightly over where the wound should have been. Then he stood sharply, staring. Then he left the room. After a while he returned, stoic demeanor returned and leisurely swagger in his step. He sat beside Thatcher, studying him for a moment, then procured a scalpel and slowly dragged it over Thatcher’s exposed chest.*
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Post by Thatcher on Apr 10, 2007 0:53:53 GMT -5
"FFFFFFFFFFUCK!" *screamed Thatcher, arching away from the scalpel, though this only caused the burning line of pain along his chest to widen.* "You--God damn it!" *he let forth a volley of curses as the pain rendered him unable to do anything but collapse weakly back against the mattress.
He steeled himself as best he could for another slice, but none came. He realized Lecter was waiting for something. He glared up at him.*
"You sick bastard," *he hissed as he held his breath and forced his body to heal itself. The superficial flesh wound upon his chest did not take long, but it sapped what little strength was left from the monumental effort it'd taken to regrow his liver and seal his body.*
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