[Having resided for some time in this cosmic wilderness, the concept of a multiverse is not a foreign one to Frederick Chilton. That name he heard, the one that could pulp his heart to panic, it didn't synchronize with that youthful face, nor that implied fact. 1951? Hannibal Lecter was distinguished, but hardly a man of his eighties. His Hannibal Lecter wasn't, anyway.
Uncomfortable, wasn't it, to think of the individual with such possession? His Hannibal Lecter.
Chilton cleared his throat, managing a brief (and neutral) sentence:]
And will you be soon establishing your practice, Doctor Lecter?
[That dialect had been so strikingly similar to the one he remembered -- a parallel cataclysmic enough to bubble panic in his blood, like some infusion of champagne anxiety. It almost eclipsed the sneaking envy that slithered down his spine: a doctor, already? Lecter looked as if he could have been a freshman in university.
voice;
Uncomfortable, wasn't it, to think of the individual with such possession? His Hannibal Lecter.
Chilton cleared his throat, managing a brief (and neutral) sentence:]
And will you be soon establishing your practice, Doctor Lecter?
[That dialect had been so strikingly similar to the one he remembered -- a parallel cataclysmic enough to bubble panic in his blood, like some infusion of champagne anxiety. It almost eclipsed the sneaking envy that slithered down his spine: a doctor, already? Lecter looked as if he could have been a freshman in university.
A doctor already.]