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On this wonderful bright May afternoon, Dr. Hannibal Lecter is sitting in a booth near the back window, with a large sheet of paper and a number of pencils and scalpels, drawing.

He's drawing a re-imagination of a classic painting, 'Judith Slaying Holofernes', the version by Artemisia Gentileschi.

In his pencil version, Holofernes has no beard, is blond, and looks remarkably like Eric Northman. Judith does look a little like Sunshine in the original already; now she looks even more so.

The maid, in Hannibal's version, is wearing round glasses and a worried expression.

He is whistling as he works.

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"From what I heard," Dr. Lecter says, "Javert ewent back into the Seine, and Valjean grabbed some sort of life raft and ran after him. That was the last anybody saw, but people are of course very upset about it."

"How very strange," Autor says, accepting his teacup from the returned rat. "I wonder why."

"He had become quite upset," Hannibal says. "Something had apparently happened with Ganymede, he decided to stop building his church, and was acting more dis-oriented than usual. If Javert is upset, he tends to deprive himself of whatever he likes best. It seems to be one of his coping mechanisms."

"What?" Autor says, blinking. "Javert was building a church? Here?"

He shakes his head. "I hadn't heard that. Well, I can see why people would be upset about his jumping back into the Seine," he says. "I wonder if Ganymede feels responsible."

"I very much hope he doesn't," Dr. Lecter says. "There is no reason to; it's most likely something that just popped up in Javert's mind the way things do, with him."

Pause.

"Yes, he was building a church in the forest. Another one of those ideas. In his world-view, they of course make sense."

"He's allowed to have ideas," Autor says, furrowing his brow. "And it doesn't seem like a church would hurt anyone, anyway."

"His ideas are different from those of other people," Dr. Lecter says. "And of course, his church is a very good idea, for reasons completely unconnected with Javert's reasons for building it. In connection with that, it turned out that Javert can draw, a natural gift he'd never discovered before. He drew sketches for his church that took your breath away. He can draw anything. He's better at it than I am, and I say that completely without envy."

"Who cares if he's different?" Autor says, feeling a little silly. He takes a sip of his cooling tea. "It's strange that he'd be able to express himself with art. Most people take years to develop that talent."

"Javert isn't most people," Dr. Lecter says, gravely. "That's most likely part of his problem."

"You have an uncanny habit of finding problems in people," Autor huffs.

"I'm a psychiatrist," Dr. Lecter points out. "If I couldn't do that, I wouldn't be a very good one."

Autor shakes his head. "Still," he says. "In any case, I believe I've learned from you what I set out to. Good luck with your drawings."

"This one is for you," Dr. Lecter says, handing him the finished sketch. "What you set out? What did you set out to learn?"

"About whether Sunshine was all right," he says, and then holds his hands up before taking the drawing. "Thank you, but I couldn't take that."

"Of course you can," Dr. Lecter says. "You just saw me draw it. It's just your faces, with no added blood or vampires. Take it home and cherish it."

"I've always felt that your gifts come with a price," Autor murmurs, peering at the sketch. He picks up his book. "But for the life of me, I can't think of what the catch behind this one is."

"The price for most of my gifts isn't nearly as steep as you seem to think," Hannibal says, "and this is just what it seems -- a spontaneous little sketch of two good friends."

"Ah, but there's where you're wrong," Autor says, adjusting his glasses again. "I'm not your friend."

"You aren't friends with Rae, then?" Dr. Lecter asks, almost playfully.

"What? Of course I'm friends with her," Autor says, frowning a little. "Don't twist my words."

"I just said it was a sketch of two good friends," Hannibal points out. "I didn't claim you were my friends, even though you wound me if you insist you're not."

"Well, then I wound you," Autor says callously. "While I must give you my compliments as to the quality of the sketch, I simply cannot take it. Good day, Dr. Lecter."

Dr. Lecter chuckles. "Always so very keen to discharge yourself from my company," he says.

"And you always seem so keen on keeping me near," Autor says, furrowing his brow. "I wonder why."

"I like you?" Dr. Lecter says.