AN-The flute is meant to represent Will, the harp Hannibal, and the orchestra the setting and the OC within it. That is the reason I picked this piece of music. The concerto is by Mozart and I obviously do not own it or Hannibal.

Thank you if you decide to leave a comment. It's always appreciated.

Hannibal stared down at the offered square on his napkin( and even that description was too generous for the folded piece of paper towel with some sort of unspecified food sitting upon it) with a carefully blank look of a man regarding a poisoned cup pressed upon him by fate. "What is it?" he asked finally, at a complete lost. Hannibal had an extensive mental index of anything and everything edible, and the multiple processes of cooking for said ingredients but he was coming up blank for the cut square of what looked like packing material mixed with glue before him. Hannibal assumed it was something to eat. That or patch walls with.

Dramatics aside, it was really his own fault for the predicament he was in at the moment. Hannibal had insisted on joined Will when he had announced over breakfast that he would be going door to door for this particular case. Some repulsive little pretender was slicing up people in the numerous cornfields of Nebraska and displaying the resulting corpses like scarecrows. Not only was the murderer wasting perfectly good meat on corvine and maggots, he was squandering opportunities to make an intelligible statement or make his true voice know.

On second thought, perhaps this was the totality of his self- Crude, bucolic, and utterly graceless. In which case, Hannibal would be happy to help Will and even Jack catch this country mouse who dreamed of being a crow so that they could return to the blessed civilization of Baltimore. He regretted coming along, but it gave him a wonderful opportunity and open access to Will.

When he realized he was being met with stunned silence, Hannibal looked up to find their current source of inquiry, Mrs. Miller, staring at him like he had just grown another head and Will, who was sitting across from him at the stained and scarred dining room table, poorly smothering a grin into the back of those ugly mittens he insisted upon wearing.

"You'll will have to forgive the good doctor. He didn't grow up in this country so I doubt he's familiar with Rice Krispie Treats.", Will chuckled, shooting a grin to Mrs. Miller who smiled back, nodding knowingly like having such knowledge suddenly made her wise. Hannibal envisioned gutting her in her own kitchen and shoving her remains in what laughingly passed for an oven.

"I thought he sounded all foreign like.", The wind burned, overweight housewife slurred out thickly in her own MidWest accent. Hannibal reminded himself that ignorance was not rudeness though it made him start to see tinges of red around edges of his vision. "Well, you are in luck, darlin. I make the best in the neighborhood."

Hannibal lamented now he had been firmly placed in the role as guest and to remain polite, he would have to eat the vile brick of chemicals. His sensitive nose was not scenting a single natural ingredient in or about this 'treat', the doctor starting to feel ill at the very idea of eating it, much lest ingesting. His body was a temple and this offering to it was too foul to even be considered. Will wasn't helping him either. If anything, the empath looked entirely too amused for Hannibal's benefit about the situation.

Even worse, Hannibal knew he would have to eat the 'treat' to gain Mrs. Miller's confidence. The woman had placed them in her kitchen because she felt worried and scared about their presence in her small narrow corner of the world, which Hannibal doubted extended past the confines of the tiny town in the middle of godforsaken nowhere. She needed to confront the unknown in her place of power. He observed that Mrs. Miller would have sent them to her living room if she was trying to impress or make them feel welcome. In this instance, the ritual offering of food to a guest was actually a litmus test on whether or not they were trustworthy or a threat. He could also tell she was also the type of person who would take insult if he declined her hospitality. Will must have sensed this as well, he was certain the empath had, but was lending no aid in distracting their host so that Hannibal could tactfully dispose of the 'treat'.

"How do I eat it?", Hannibal asked, uncertain of how he should proceed. Cutlery had not been offered and none was provided for his benefit as well. His question was answered by a shrill shriek of laughter that made Hannibal's arm hairs stand up on end, Will barely managing to keep him own in check by biting his bottom lip hard enough to make it bloom red.

"Oh ma god, where'd you find him?! He's precious.", Mr. Miller laughed with all the charm and class of a hyena in Hannibal's humble opinion. "Darlin, you just pick it up and eat it.".

To his dismay, the 'treat' had just gotten exponentially worse in Hannibal's judgment. Now he would have to touch it with his bare hands? Will demonstrated unnecessarily by helping himself to one of the 'treats', and biting into it. It crunched sickeningly in his mouth like bones softened from over boiling. Hannibal felt vaguely nauseous.

"I have to say I do not recall having anything this….unique as a child." Hannibal licked his thin lips, wondering if he could put off this experience indefinitely by making small talk. Though he disliked talking about his foreign origin especially with strangers, he would gladly babble on about anything Mrs. Miller wanted to hear if it kept him from having to put that thing anywhere near his mouth.

"Then you simply must try it.", Will pointed out, his stormy blue eyes glittering with mischief and open amusement as if sensing Hannibal attempt at escape, effectively blocking it. As an empath, a profiler, and having a great amount of personal insight on the doctor, more so really than any other person alive or dead, he could tell how uncomfortable Hannibal was at the moment even if Mrs. Miller had no clue. Even worse, he seemed to be enjoying his discomfort. Hannibal decided to add sadist to Will's long list of derangements.

"May I perhaps have some coffee with this delight?" Hannibal asked, reminding Mrs. Miller to play the proper host, the housewife making a flurry of embarrassed sounds for forgetting to offer and movements to make amends for it. While she was busy, Hannibal glared open hate and viciousness at the empath who about fell over in his answering mirth, the little puppy eyed shit having the gall to grin unabashedly back at him. Desperate, Hannibal forced eye contact upon the gaze evasive man, promising vengeance and blood in the set line of his mouth and cold stare if Will didn't fix this and fast. He was not going to eat this block of disgusting processed sugar and he didn't give a damn how many people had gotten themselves murdered. In Hannibal's opinion, if they ate offal like this everyday and insisted upon forcing it upon others who clearly didn't want it, they deserved to die in the most painful ways available to them.

"Doctor, you should really know better." Will chided, speaking up for Mrs. Miller's benefit as he reached across the table to lightly slap Hannibal's hand away from the 'treat', like it was anywhere near its vicinity. For all intents and purposes at the moment though, Hannibal would allow it, especially if it meant he would not have to touch the sticky mass.

"You'll have to excuse him. I've been trying to keep him away from sweets.", Will explained expressively, favoring Hannibal with a theatrical condemning look. "He just had a temporary crown put in and his dentist will kill him if he loses it."

"Just as bad as a little kid.", Mrs. Miller cooed, removing the 'treat' from him. Hannibal was torn between relief and feeling insult that his dental care or lack there of had been called into question.

"Thank you for reminding me. Another time perhaps.", Hannibal played along graciously and gratefully, accepting the cup of dirty water that passed for coffee in this part of the country. It was ambrosia next to the prospect of the fresh hell that remained on the serving plate beside him, rice krispie treats piled high. The sugary sweet smell coming off of them was beginning to make Hannibal feel ill.

Amused by her guests and overly generous in dull gossip, Mrs. Miller turned out to be yet another dead end as the pair left her house, moving onto the next domain. Though walking side by side, Will was the one gliding light on his feet while Hannibal very nearly trudged, or whatever the refined equivalent for trudging was.

"Don't pout. You're the one that wanted to come door to door with me.", Will remind him, attempting to bite back the grin he had been wearing on his face since Hannibal had been threatened with artificial snack food.

"Will they all be serving such sub par confectionaries?" Hannibal grumbled, pulling his scarf up. He most certainly did not pout. Open contempt was not pouting.

"It's suburbia in rural Nebraska, so yeah.", Will chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the sight of an unbalanced Lector. It was a rare thing to behold or one would think who didn't know him as well as Will did. "I did warn you."

"I apologize for not taking your word of caveat more seriously.", Hannibal grumbled into the thick woven wool of his scarf. "I will not make that mistake again. I will be back at the hotel. Please call me when you are done or if anything of merit arises." He considered that the later was doubtable. It didn't matter anyway. Hannibal was going to personally track down this moronic bastard of a serial killer and make him pay for this insult on his sensibilities in blood and pain. Head held high, he pretended not to hear Will's low chuckles at his rapid departure, the doctor stalking away toward the rental with all the loping grace of a wolf on the hunt, the scarf hiding the hungry lupine grin on his face.