The jelly candies gleamed like globules of blood and pleural fluid, each in its own neat plastic wrapper.
“They’re quite small,” Hannibal told the children, “so take as many as you like.”
The princess chose one and prettily thanked him. The werewolf seized a pawful and ran. That left a frowning little girl with braided hair, bearing a bow and quiver. Diana, perhaps, or some more recent incarnation.
She eyed the jellies severely. “Do these have gelatin in them?"
"Indeed they do,” Hannibal said.
The girl recoiled. “I don’t eat murder candy,” she declared, and stalked off Hannibal’s front step.