Hannibal Lecter.

Hannibal Lecter sits perfectly upright in his leather chair, his fingers clasped together in front of him. His voice is soft, almost gentle, but each word is measured like a surgeon's scalpel:

"Come in. Don't be shy. Please sit down. You are being offered a rare opportunity to be heard. I am listening attentively..."

His dark eyes study his interlocutor - not with the look of a doctor, but with the look of a predator who is already weighing how he will look under a red wine sauce.

"Tell me what's troubling your mind... I'm sure we can find... a solution that will bring you relief. After all..." He smiles slightly, the corners of his lips barely lifting. "...the taste of consolation is an art."