He watches closely, noting every detail. For once, it is not someone else, but himself, that is the subject of his attentions. She is dining tonight in the hotels superb restaurant. He wants to watch her somewhere besides the farmhouse. She wasted no time coming to Baltimore, it was hard for him to accommodate her plans on such short notice. He looks into the mirror, maroon eyes reflecting back to him. He carefully straightens the jacket and tie, one that he retained on his untimely departure from Florence. He misses Florence, perhaps he will take her there someday. He took Clarice to Buenos Aires, but she couldn’t overcome the emotions that related to him as a killer. She had returned to the States shortly thereafter, amazingly gaining her place back at the FBI. Perhaps… It would be a grand trip nonetheless. In making his decision he would spare no expense. Those plans lay in the future to be decided, and he carefully tucks them away. For now, he has a reservation to keep. He slips into the hall, and catches sight of her, back towards him, walking towards the elevator. Best to take the stairs then. She is a very elegant woman.

*****

Emily sits at a small booth tucked in the corner of the restaurant. Soft strains of the piano in another room float on the air, putting her at ease. It has been a long time since she has treated herself to such luxuries and she enjoys them. The waitstaff is considerate and consummate in attending to her. She looks across the dim dining room, candles flicker in sconces in the walls. As her gaze trails across another booth she feels a chill in her bones. Shaking it off, she turns back to the menu, perusing the dessert selections. Dinner had been a wonderful lobster tail and filet mignon. She remembers the last time she had filet mignon. Her heart aches, to her surprise, as she remembers the dinner that had been prepared for her that night. She selects the Penrose Room raspberries in cream, a recipe imported from the renowned Broadmoor resort in Colorado Springs, Colorado. The young server taking her dessert order looked no older than seventeen, and Emily reflected on that age as she spoke with him. She watched as he let the table and headed for the kitchen, she looked away before she saw him stop at another booth.

Dr. Lecter smiled at the young man as he motioned for him to stop. The man was gracious, ready to accommodate whatever his wish was.

"What did the woman order for dessert?" Lecter purrs, his voice as gentle as silk.

"Penrose Room raspberries in cream, sir."

Delicate, like her. "Please, send a glass of wine to her table. My compliments, of course."

A nod from the young man. "Of course. What wine, sir?"

"Chateau d'Yquem, vintage nineteen sixty-six if you have it."

A nod, and a smile approving of the choice. "I believe we do, sir."

"Thank you." he smiles as the man moves away. He can see Emily at her table, candle light playing softly on her hair, making the deep blue sapphire at her neck glow like a star. He reflected, the same wine he had offered Clarice, if not the same vintage. Dr. Lecter watches as the young man returns to Emily's table with the dessert and the wine. He is thrilled to see her blush as she receives the wine. She smiles and thanks the man and he walks off to tend to another table. Lecter catches the attention of his own server and requests the bill. He pays it with a Visa card held in the name of Dr. Edward Chilton. Dr. Chilton has very excellent credit and can afford the meal easily. He lays a very nice tip on the table and rises from the booth. Emily is not watching as he makes his way to her. The gentleman, he asks her permission before sitting across from her. For her sake, Emily does not react obversely as she sees him. Her eyes grow wide, but her voice is quiet and calm and she invites him to sit. She makes sure no one is nearby before glaring at Lecter.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hisses, eyes flashing with trapped lightning.

"That's not very polite of you Emily."

Emily has barely begun the game but is sorely tired of it already. "Right now, I don’t really care. Following me? Trying to get back to Clarice?" her irritability is showing through in her eyes as she finishes the last raspberry. Her words have just the effect she was hoping for.

"Trying to tempt me, Emily?" Lecter's voice drops a notch as he hisses. Emily just watches, sipping the wine.

"Anything but, Dr. Lecter." she catches the eye of her server and passes him a credit card, ironically the same that Lecter bears in his wallet with Dr. Chilton's name on it. "I don’t play games, so if you want that, you'll have to trot back to Starling." she receives the receipt and signs her name to it, leaving the server a very generous tip. With that, she slides form her seat and walks from the restaurant, leaving Dr. Lecter alone. He carefully conceals his anger and follows a few steps behind. She has to wait for the elevator, there is no way she can climb ten flights of stairs in the spindly heels she is wearing. He steps into the elevator behind her and she ignores him, pressing the button for her floor. Within moments of the elevator's rise she is pinned against the wall. The elevator jolts slightly form the commotion and Lecter glaring at Emily.

Pushed a few too many buttons, Emily. she notes to herself, wondering if he is about to kill her. She winces at the pain in her wrist as he releases with his right and grasps them both in his left. She is in no position to fight back. Dr. Lecter is amazing in his speed and strength and Emily is not. She keeps her eyes locked with his, seeing the same hunger that she had seen in the house in them. She hears the jangle of metal and a quiet metallic click. She sees the handcuff he has placed on her right hand and then as he places the other cuff on his left.

"A little trick I learned from dear Clarice. Its handy when you don't want your guest to run off unexpectedly." He backs from the wall, watching Emily as she touches the cold metal with her left hand.

The elevator stops and chimes quietly, and the doors open. Lecter carefully drapes Emily's light wrap over their wrists as he leads her down the hallway. They stop in front of her door and he waits, Emily stifles her objections and digs the card key out of her clutch. They are inside in moments and Lecter pushes her back into a chair at the little table by the window in the bedroom. With unerring ease he unlocks his cuff and locks it around the chair's arm. Emily is staring, and feels a prickle of fear in her mind. She opens her mouth to speak, but is stopped as he lays a finger against her lips.

"Shhh. Now, I will be right back, need to run and get something from my room. No screaming or anything, Emily, we do not want to make a scene. Understand?" She nods, "Okey dokey then. I'll be right back."

He's gone and Emily's eyes scan the room, looking for something, anything. The only thing on the table is a note pad and a brochure touting the attractions in and around Baltimore. Great, just great, and to make matters worse Clarice would be here soon to go over the drawings. Lecter couldn't have known about that, could he? She tries to scoot the chair across the room, if she can reach the telephone… Oops, the door has opened and she can hear the heavy footfalls coming across the room. Dr. Lecter is not happy when he finds her halfway across the bedroom.

"Industrious, aren't we? Let's just go back to the table now." he easily pushes the heavy chair back to the table and sits opposite her, untucking a small pouch from under his arm. Emily has a sick feeling in her stomach.

"What… What is in there?" she asks, blinking away unbidden tears.

His voice is placid, calm as he answers the question, unfolding the pouch. "Nothing that will hurt you, I assure you. Did you really think I would hurt you Emily?" the laugh, "You yourself said it, I cannot hurt the ones I love. You were so very close to the truth on that."

Keep him talking, keep him busy until Clarice can get here. "Ummm… Why was I close, Dr. Lecter?"

"I do love Clarice, Emily. With all my heart. You, well… I have something deeper for you than love." he slides a syringe from the strap that is holding it in place, along with a tiny vial. With the care and precision of a practiced hand he filled the needle, tapping it to release the air. The needle itself is fine, Emily can barely see its glint in the light. He takes her left wrist pressing it down against the chair, firmly restraining her. "Now, Emily, hold still. I promise this won't hurt."

*****