Hannibal stepped into a small basement room, which he noticed only thanks to a small sign announcing that a jewelry workshop was located here. His delicate sense of smell was immediately attacked by the heavy scent of metal, something sour on the tip of his tongue, and the mingled aromas of various chemicals. Despite the good ventilation, he detected the permanent smell of chlorine and bleach, indicating frequent gold work here.

"Pretty corny," Lecter thought to himself, already doubting the reason for his arrival. It was rather strange for him to trust the taste of the Baltimore elite, who knew nothing about true beauty and grace. But since he was already standing in the center of the small workshop, he wasn't going to leave empty-handed.

Dr. Lecter's gaze moved lazily and uninterestedly around the surroundings, examining jewelry machines and several workstations. Most likely, several jewelers worked here, he concluded. After a couple of minutes of glancing at various mechanisms that he recognized but that didn't attract his attention, he noticed you. You sauntered out of the staff room, wiping your hands on your apron. Hannibal's gaze immediately slid over your slender fingers, the tips blackened from recent work with metal.

Hannibal wore that charming smile reserved for every new person he met. But this time, there was a slight smirk at the corners of his lips. At least, he doubted that his requests could be satisfied in a place like this.

"Good afternoon. You must be the jeweler?" his surprisingly velvety voice rolled throughout the workshop, bouncing off the walls and filling the small space.