To see an opera

[sunbaked_baker]

(Up in her room, Rae gets ready.)


When Sunshine comes down the stairs, today, she may not look wholly like herself. The baker is usually seen in the bar wearing bright t-shirts or sweaters, with colorful jeans and sneakers, her hair up in a ponytail or held back by a likewise colorful kerchief. One colorfully casual customer.

Today her hair is down, tumbling about her scarred shoulders in loose waves of red, and what she wears is not her normal style at all.

She takes care with her steps, and not just because of the silver heels that grace her feet. As she moves down the stairs, Rae consciously straightens her spine against the fluttery nervous feeling in her stomach, and hopes it will soon pass.

This is going to be an enjoyable outing. Rae refuses to let her feelings of self-consciousness mar it.



(ooc: Sunshine will likely be out of the bar for a while after this, so any and all threads are welcome, but will be millitimed to before her thread with Hannibal Lecter.)

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"It would be so rude, they wouldn't do that in the context," Dr. Lecter says. "Not with me there, especially. They all secretly hope to be invited again, after all."

[sunbaked_baker]

"I hope you're right," she says, smiling. Apart from people inadvertently getting themselves uninvited to future events, Rae would rather not deal with the awareness of being stared at. Self-consciousness can be forgotten with relative ease in a familiar setting with familiar, friendly company, despite dresses and shoes that cost more than what she makes in a month.

It's less easy to fight it off when in an unfamiliar setting and surrounded by staring strangers. She doesn't have to tell him she's a bit nervous.

[cook_the_rude]

"Shall we?" Hannibal says, offering his arm.

[sunbaked_baker]

The motion makes her smile, the strange mixture of wonder, disbelief and delight tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Yes," she says, and - reminded again how out of her sphere of experience this all is, genuine actions she's only seen in movies - places her hand at the crook of his elbow, "Let's go."

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter opens his door. Beyond it, there's a waiting room with nice chairs, and old prints on the wall. He closes the door, then opens it again, and instead of the bar, there's a large library or office, with book cases by the walls and on a mezzanine that can be reached by a ladder. The large open space in the middle is dominated by a couch, and two grey leather chairs. Two long windows are shaded by red-and-pale block-striped curtains. Between them is a solid old bonsai tree.

It is large, and looks very much lived in, especially as the late Victorian room with its dramatic greys and reds is contrasted by mid-century modern furniture that looks oddly lived-in and comfortable, despite the abstractions of its design.

[sunbaked_baker]

Rae steps through with him, taking in her surroundings. The whole effect is pleasing to the eye. Books and fine furniture, open space and color, the mezzanine level leaving the edges of the room in shadow while the center is well-lit. It's... well, she isn't sure what she expected, but what she sees feels right. It is very much Dr. Lecter's space - his tastes are imprinted upon every facet.

"This would be your office?" Rae asks, looking up with a curious, wondering smile at the walls of bookshelves upon the mezzanine level. But for the grand desk sitting in the center of the room, she would have labeled the room a personal library.

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes, this is where I work," Dr. Lecter says.

He makes a sparse gesture towards the chairs and the couch. "That is where I talk to my patients. Do take your time to look around if you'd like. Shall I get us some wine?"

[sunbaked_baker]

"Mm, thank you," she says, her gaze returning to him for a moment. Rae doesn't ask about keeping wine in one's professional space. Instead she wanders, looking at the shelves, well-kept and orderly, and inhaling the faint, comforting smell of old books and wood polish.

"It is a very nice office. I'm not sure what I was expecting," Rae murmurs, looking over at the chairs and couch. Something more clinical, certainly. Sitting in those chairs would be... just two people having a conversation. "I doubt the offices of psychiatrists in my world are anything like this."

[cook_the_rude]

"I can imagine you've made sure to never see the inside of one, with the secrets you have to keep," Dr. Lecter says. "A white wine, I'd say?"

[sunbaked_baker]

"SOF gave me the contact info of some specialists, a couple of years ago," Rae says, her left hand lightly holding her right wrist. She had never asked specialist in what? "I would've had to lie, and I was already sick of that just talking to SOF and the police."

The writing that adorns the Edo-period prints above the pale azure couch - a spot of coolness contrasted with the otherwise warmly-colored office - is unfamiliar to her, but fascinating still, with the faces of the figures represented there.

"White would be fine, yes."

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter doesn't take long; he just walks through a door in the back of his office and returns, some minutes later, with two glasses of white wine.

"A simple domestic Chardonnay from Napa Valley," he says. "Crisp and deep, earnest and without frills. I find it goes well with books and music."

He offers her one.

[sunbaked_baker]

Rae has made her meandering way back around to another bookshelf by the time he returns. She accepts the offered glass with a smile for the 'no frills' comment. She feels quite frilly, in comparison.

"All the best things go with books and music," Sunshine replies, breathing in the wine's scent for a good moment, before she sips.

"Mm, lovely. There're apples," she murmurs with a smile. After another sip, she adds, "and citrus. Indian summer in a glass."

[cook_the_rude]

"Having a psychiatrist you need to lie to is counter-indicative to any good therapy," he says. "What were they specialists for? Survivors of vampire attacks?"

[sunbaked_baker]

"I wondered at the time, but I didn't ask - I suspect it was Other trauma. Not... not many people get away from vampires, specifically." She had been told it's not unheard-of, but that had been news to her. "SOF wanted to know what happened, and I had to tell them I didn't remember."

[cook_the_rude]

"So they wanted these psychiatrists to stir around in your brain and see if they could bring up some useful memories?" Dr. Lecter says. "Not conducive to a patient-therapist relationship based on trust."

[sunbaked_baker]

"Useful, maybe. Their emphasis was on that it was for my own peace of mind," she replies, sipping her wine. "To help me remember and heal." Et cetera.

"The problem being that I did remember, and what I remembered would have landed me in even deeper trouble than the relative cakewalk of lying to SOF about amnesia from partially-faked post traumatic whatever."

"Not accepting their referrals meant I didn't have to lie more."

[cook_the_rude]

"That was a great bucket of lies they threw on you, anyway," Dr. Lecter says. "Positively buzzword bingo. You were right not to take up their referral."

[sunbaked_baker]

"I believe some of them were sincere," Rae replies, shrugging slightly. The movement pulls at the marred skin of her shoulders, where her many scars and the golden traceries of her sunlight-web overlap. "At the time, I was just a survivor of an Other attack, suffering from PTSD. Not someone for them to wonder about."

That came later.

"They didn't... push, you know." It was not an interrogation.

[cook_the_rude]

"No?" Dr. Lecter says. "What do you think they believed to be doing?"

[sunbaked_baker]

"I think the people I talked to meant to help," Rae replies. "Giving a report after something like an Other attack is standard practice. Like giving as detailed a report to cops after a burglary or a mugging. Standard practice includes giving the names of possible contacts for therapy to the person who'd been attacked, too, if they're showing signs of trauma."

[cook_the_rude]

"Standard practice is not always best practice," Dr. Lecter shrugs. "But we shouldn't dwell on that. I don't even know your SOF friends."

[sunbaked_baker]

"These weren't my friends in SOF, anyway, just the SOF agent assigned to take my report at the time," Rae shakes her head slightly. She knows SOF isn't perfect, knows it better than most, but she believes their intentions were good, in this case.

[cook_the_rude]

"Who failed to see something very rare had happened," Dr. Lecter nods. "But it was probably for the best."

[sunbaked_baker]

"For me, it certainly was," Rae remarks, nodding. "Even if I left out the how of it, which they certainly wouldn't have let me do, telling one of the SOF-suggested therapists that I had saved the life of a vampire - whatever the circumstances - would've done... absolutely no one any good."

Especially not her.

[cook_the_rude]

"They like their monsters to stay in the little boxes they put them in, do they?" Dr. Lecter says, quietly shaking his head.