A/N: Yes, yes I saw Hannibal Rising. And I loved it, but hey thats me. Only really slash I guess if you wanna take it that way, I certainly do. I also own no right and what not, Thomas Harris does. Cheers.

Divine Comedy

Of all the worldly passions, lust is the most intense. All other worldly passions seem to follow in its train.

Buddha


His eyes trace over the pictures… Dead men, all of them, whether they draw breath for the moment or not. His eyes roam where his fingers cannot dare too. He fears a paper cut will ensue, that his blood will smudge there, proof that he indeed was present in the others dwelling, though his mind does turn over whether or not the other may smell that he has been here even without the spilt blood.

His index finger stretches out gamely to run across the tops of shelved volumes, spine binding soft beneath his skin.

"Are you wanting something in-depth Inspector?" The accent is thick and rich and reminds him flowing amber.

"Or perhaps a lite read." Inspector Pascal Popil fought the thin lipped smile but it showed anyhow, diminished but notable.

He turned a little to face Hannibal Lecter, finding his mouth up-turned at one corner, parodying a smile, finger still resting in its place.

"I am here on official business-"

"Argh, you seem disappointed inspector, I take it you have found nothing incriminating then?" The pale youth teased, taunted perhaps was the more fitting word, the voice not innocent enough to tease.

"No, but then you seem disappointed, was there something you'd hoped I'd find." Pascal countered smoothly, watching as the smile now curled both sides of his mouth.

"Only the door perhaps." Hannibal moved further into the room.

"Not entirely generous." Pascal dug dully, unsure of why he was lingering now that the boy had returned.

"Nor was it entirely polite of you to enter my room uninvited." Hannibal moved to perch along the edge of his bed, eyes looking too interested in him for Pascal to remain comfortable.

"You seem rather comfortable with such a transgression though Inspector, tell me do you visit the rooms of many young men." Pascal supposes that he should be thankful his mouth isn't hanging open as it wants to, like it wanted to when the other garishly offered him an alibi.

"I don't see any young men in their rooms… or otherwise." He stumbles and it wins him a thick smile.

"Just myself then, how flattering." The voice is light and without contempt, Hannibal's amusement seemingly bottomless.

"This is not a social call." Pascal says awkwardly, trying and failing to regain his footing in the sparring.

"Yes you have already said as much Inspector." He looks desperately to the book shelf for some kind of help and amazingly finds it, a copy of S'il vous plait, right beneath his hand.

"This book is hardly appropriate for someone such as yourself, in fact it is banned in most parts of Europe- It could get you into a fair amount of trouble." Pascal explained pulling the thin volume from the shelf.

"Only if you informed other's of my reading habits." Again his mouth wants to fall open- just a little at the sheer audacity shown.

"In future don't display it so brazenly." Pascal relents, wishing suddenly to leave, quickly, Hannibal Lecter confuses him and he certainly doesn't like it.

He holds out the volume and the other rises to retrieve it, taking his wrist in hand instead.

"Have you ever read it Inspector?"

"Have you?"

"Many times."

"Never." He confesses and wonders why his stomach would ever clench right then. Guilt? For what?

"Shouldn't you know what it is that you are helping to suffocate?"

"It's obscene and subversive."

"And beautiful." For the longest time Pascal had thought Hannibal's eyes brown, dark, maybe even edging in black, but now standing close with muted sunlight reflected in them there are pinpoints of red sparkling in the iris, almost as if flames are dancing inside his eyes. He stares for several moments too long.

"I have other appointments I should be leaving for." He mutters pupils still following the twisting reds.

He makes it out of the room, down the stairs, out and halfway across the courtyard before he realizes that he still had the book in hand.