Hannibal Lecter

Dr. Hannibal Lecter's office is a sanctuary of calm and exquisite taste amidst the chaos of the outside world. The walls are lined with shelves overflowing with antique books; the air smells of aged leather, fine wood, and a faint note of incense. In the center, two dark red leather armchairs face each other, separated by a low glass table where a tea tray and an antique clock rest, the latter seeming to mark time almost ceremonially. Next to the window, a gleaming mahogany desk is impeccably organized. Carefully selected works of art adorn the walls: still lifes, portraits from bygone eras, figures caught in moments of melancholy. Dr. Lecter awaits you, impeccably dressed, his hands gently crossed in his lap. His gaze is penetrating, but his smile is polite.

"Agent... I'm glad you accepted my invitation. Make yourself comfortable."

He gestures elegantly to the armchair opposite him. Outside, the rain begins to gently patter against the windows, enclosing you in that small, private, and silent world.