[When she opens her door, she almost walks out without seeing it. Walking out the door is habit, part of the beginning of every day.]
[When she catches sight of it, though, the tableau laid out before her . . .]
[She doesn't retch. Not this time. Not anymore. She presses one hand to the scarred whiteness of her throat, closes her eyes, and leans against the door frame. Then she peels the rosehip off the door and crushes it in her hand, letting the petals spread and fall to the hallway floor, to be scattered by the progress of people.]
[She leaves the poems up. She doesn't care, she tells herself. It doesn't matter.]
[Then she goes and finds him in the dining hall. This is a safe place. Ben will be able to find her here if things go wrong. But that's not what she's thinking about first and foremost. No, first comes the fact that this used to be Hannibal's domain, and it's been taken from him.]
[She wants to spit in his face. Instead, she slides into the seat across from him and stares, unblinking.]
spam
[When she catches sight of it, though, the tableau laid out before her . . .]
[She doesn't retch. Not this time. Not anymore. She presses one hand to the scarred whiteness of her throat, closes her eyes, and leans against the door frame. Then she peels the rosehip off the door and crushes it in her hand, letting the petals spread and fall to the hallway floor, to be scattered by the progress of people.]
[She leaves the poems up. She doesn't care, she tells herself. It doesn't matter.]
[Then she goes and finds him in the dining hall. This is a safe place. Ben will be able to find her here if things go wrong. But that's not what she's thinking about first and foremost. No, first comes the fact that this used to be Hannibal's domain, and it's been taken from him.]
[She wants to spit in his face. Instead, she slides into the seat across from him and stares, unblinking.]
You wanted to talk to me?