"Croissant first," Autor says, rolling his die. He feels parched; while his voice doesn't quite crack, the words come out broken. His eyes stray from the die--which has come up four--to Dr. Lecter again, and then back to Rae's face.

"Mashed, spiced yams," he says quietly, plating the croissant. "Would you like a drink with it?"

And then he whispers, "Rae... Can he still hear us?"