I'm not an experiment, Iris. I'm not a fragile thing under glass.
[Abigail is never mild; her version of mild is only a very small knife, hidden under many layers. That's what this statement is precisely. She knows the compulsion to understand - knows it intimately. But she also knows that what she knows of it is a commonality with Hannibal, and that disconcerts her.]
[Elvis's nose is wet. She rubs the long stripe of short fur that leads between his eyes and loses herself in him for a moment. But it's impossible not to smile at the mention of Ben.]
Don't make him anything. [She speaks as if from far away, her eyes half-closed.] Stained glass can just be . . . an end product.
no subject
[Abigail is never mild; her version of mild is only a very small knife, hidden under many layers. That's what this statement is precisely. She knows the compulsion to understand - knows it intimately. But she also knows that what she knows of it is a commonality with Hannibal, and that disconcerts her.]
[Elvis's nose is wet. She rubs the long stripe of short fur that leads between his eyes and loses herself in him for a moment. But it's impossible not to smile at the mention of Ben.]
Don't make him anything. [She speaks as if from far away, her eyes half-closed.] Stained glass can just be . . . an end product.
He must love you very much.