[Private to Ryan]

[It's early afternoon when Hannibal contacts Ryan. He's in his cabin - his practice - and affects a pleasant countenance.]

I know it is short notice, but would you like to join my for lunch?

[Sort of infirmary spam]

[This isn't much of a spam, but because Hannibal is a terrible person who does terrible things, he very thoughtfully brings food to those poor souls trapped in the infirmary. It's light fare - soups, mostly, and some small solid dishes, to help with recovery. He's careful to make it look as though it could have come from the mess hall, and though he calls it chicken or pork or beef, it's made of the week's leftovers.]

[Public Video]

[It's late afternoon, and Hannibal is sitting in his practice. His legs are crossed, communicator propped on a small table to his right. He holds a glass of wine in hand, and says nothing at first, so it seems almost accidental, that it was not his intent to film this.

But nothing Hannibal does is accidental.

He turns just slightly, enough that it's clear he's addressing the Barge.]

There have been three-- [he pauses, smiles to himself as if enjoying an inside joke] --or perhaps four murders this week. There was one hostage taken. And there was, given how many officers of the law we have here, a surprising lack of procedure. [He pauses, sips his wine, and that silence just screams that he wonders how these officers and agents feel about that.] I imagine that must irk some of you.

When I came here, I introduced myself as Garrett Hobbs, and with good reason. [It's easier to play the father when no questions about surnames are asked; and it's easier to make his own impression, when no one is relying on knowledge of another man with his name to fill in the blanks. Those are his to fill in or black out as he pleases.] I'd like to amend that now.

[He finally turns to fully face the camera, and he is every inch the good doctor, the accomplish psychiatrist, the man who can take apart his patients or victims with one careful look. His eyes bore not into the communicator, but into everyone watching him.]

My name is Hannibal Lecter. And I have been getting away with murder for years.

[There is the hint of a satisfied smile in the corners of his eyes and lips, and he pauses to sip again, holding his audience's gaze when he goes on.]

The Piemaker is in his room; the door is open. No need to break it down. There are also several left overs in his kitchen; I would hate to see them go to waste. [There is no need to say, I ate them, no need to point out who he fed them to.] My cabin is on level four, room eight. My door is, as ever, [as any good therapist's ought to be] open as well.

[And he does smile, now, because, soft but pleased, because there are 'two' missing people, now, and no one has found the Emperor. Annoyed as he is at having to forgo his poetic pose for the man, this will be an added entertainment during the days to come. He reaches out and kills the feed, still smiling.]