frasier and caller

emungere  asked:

Heyyyy so about this Hannibal Frasier au...

“Caller, you’re on the air.”

“Yes, hello, Dr. Lecter,” said a deep male voice.  “This is Tobias, from Baltimore.”

“Hello, Tobias,” said Hannibal.  “How can I help you?”

“Well, my question isn’t about myself, exactly.  I wondered if you would give your listeners the benefit of your professional opinion about the symphony murder?  There’s a lot of speculation that it’s the work of the Chesapeake Ripper.”

One would think that the benefit of radio work would be a certain freedom of facial expression, but Hannibal’s sound engineer and producer were just on the other side of the glass, watching him carefully as always.  He kept his expression neutral and said, “Yes, I’ve seen the speculation as well, and I think it is unwarranted.  It is most assuredly not the work of the Ripper.”

“Oh?  What makes you say that?”

“One could be forgiven for drawing that conclusion,” Hannibal went on.  “There’s an artistry to the symphony murder that is reminiscent of the Ripper’s work, the transformation of a human being into an artistic statement.  But there’s no organ removal, no surgical trophies, and the statement itself is very judgmental in a way that the Ripper is not.  The Ripper is more…whimsical, if I had to choose a word.  I would venture to say that the symphony murderer was perhaps trying to get the Ripper’s attention, but to no avail.”

“No avail?”

“If the symphony murderer is indeed serenading the Ripper,” said Hannibal, “the Ripper has no interest in listening.  He works alone.”  The light on his dashboard began blinking.  “Next caller, please.  Yes, caller, you’re on the air.”

“Yeah, you’re full of shit.”

Hannibal blinked and gave his producer an incredulous look.  On the other side of the glass, she sat back with her arms crossed over her chest and grinned.  “Pardon?”

“The Chesapeake Ripper isn’t some kind of artist, and he’s judgmental as hell.  He’s so judgmental that he thinks he gets to decide who lives and who dies, according to whatever esoteric rule that he works by.  If you got one thing right, it’s that he has no interest whatsoever in the symphony murderer.  That’s because he’s got his head up so far his own ass he could chew his food twice.”

Hannibal opened his mouth, closed it, and finally said, “Who is this?”

“Will, from Wolf Trap,” the caller replied, and hung up.