Lecter lowered his gaze to observe Clarice’s hands rather than her face. He did not hold any interest in the trainee’s rehearsed FBI lingo. Attempts to overshadow all the complexity and detail hidden beneath her skin FRUSTRATED him. If they were to be sitting at his dinner table he might have even considered her detachment RUDE. Alas, the atmosphere they had their little MEETINGS in discouraged familiarity. What a shame.   ❛   Far from me to tell you how to do your work, Agent Starling, ❜   The cannibal replied before meeting the young woman’s gaze again.   ❛   I would assume Jack Crawford to do a better job playing that role. ❜   One long index finger paused caressing his sketch’s jawline to rest upon the subject’s THROAT.   ❛   Does it bother you? Having others watching you? Feeling Jack’s eyes digging into your flesh like fish hooks? Never being picked due to your academic prowess but due to how shiny your set of scales is? ❜    There is a pause. Dangling a bait before his eyes, hoping Lecter would bite was terribly CHILDISH of Crawford.   ❛   He too must have wondered how you taste. ❜   Lecter was aware of the INDECENT implications of his last sentence. But he required Clarice’s attention. A pretty smile and according-to-procedure chit-chat weren’t enough to keep Hannibal Lecter ENTERTAINED.