Dr Lecter, not wishing to call attention to himself, waits until the other passengers have picked through this sorry fare, waits until they have gone to the bathroom and most have fallen asleep. Far at the front, a stale movie plays. Still he waits with the patience of a python. Beside him the small boy has fallen asleep over his computer game. Up and down the broad airplane, the reading lights wink out.
Then and only then, with a furtive glance around, Dr Lecter takes from beneath the seat in front of him, his own lunch in an elegant yellow box trimmed with brown from Fauchon, the Paris caterer. It is tied with two ribbons of silk gauze in complementary colors. Dr Lecter has provisioned himself with wonderfully aromatic truffled pate de foie gras, and Anatolian figs still weeping from their severed stems. He has a half-bottle of a St Estephe he favors. The silk bow yields with a whisper.
Dr Lecter is about to savor a fig, holds it before his lips, his nostrils flared to its aroma, deciding whether to take all the fig in one glorious bite or just half, when the computer game beside him beeps. It beeps again. Without turning his head, the doctor palms the fig and looks down at the child beside him. The scents of truffle, foie gras and cognac climb from the open box. The small boy sniffs the air. His narrow eyes, shiny as those of a rodent, slide sideways to Dr Lecter’s lunch. He speaks with the piercing voice of a competitive sibling: “Hey, Mister. Hey, Mister.”
He’s not going to stop.
“What is it?”
“Is that one of those special meals?”
“It is not.”
“What’ve you got in there then?”
The child turned his face up to Dr Lecter in a full wheedle. “Gimme a bite?”
>> I find it extremely adorable that Hannibal waited with the patience of a python for the right time to eat his own lunch box on a plane, only to have his meal interrupted by a curious little boy sitting next to him, and tragically he didn’t get to eat anything in the end //hungry cannibal noises …Now imagine Post-s3 Murder Husbands, we have Will sitting next to a very helpless Hannibal, witnessing all of it and failing to keep a straight face …