″Still wish you would have killed him?″ Lecter was flipping through the latest case file. The clock ticked off in a corner and cut the silence after the doctor’s question like a leaky faucet.
The two of them were admittedly interested in this case, for very different reasons. Graham found a killer who purposefully chose athletic or difficult kills to be extraordinary dangerous. Lecter was interested in seeing if this was an actual worthy killer. So far, however, Graham’s assessment meant that he was lacking. A serial killer who left headless bodies. It was likely he had a trophy room.
Graham paced. He was in that dreamy state where the parts were falling together in his mind. A complex series of cylinders sliding bolts into the perfect strikes. The corner of his mouth twitched into a sort of snarl. He was otherwise silent.
If Graham wasn’t going to say what he was thinking on his own, he was going to get prodded to. Lecter flipped up one picture of a man in jogging pants. The thick bodybuilder’s neck was, predictably, missing its head. ″Would you have done this better, you think?″
Graham started and glanced over before he turned on heel and poured himself the last cup of coffee. ″I’m wishing I had a motorboat instead of a paddle boat.″ Graham wasn’t looking. He’d been extra careful to not make eye contact after… that odd evening. Jack had insisted that he have regular sessions with Lecter to ease his own mind or something.
(Follow the link to AO3 for the rest) Violence