oh, he's a monster. a pure psychopath.
it's so rare to capture one alive. from a research point of view, dr. lecter is our most prized asset.
you know, we get a lot of detectives here, but i must say, i can't ever remember one so attractive.
will you be in baltimore overnight? because this can be quite a fun town, if you have the right guide.
i see. let's make this quick, then. i'm busy.
lecter carved up nine people - that we're sure of - and cooked his favorite bits. we've tried to study him, of course - but he's much too sophisticated for the standard tests. and my, does he hate us! thinks i'm his nemesis.  crawford's very clever, isn't he? using you.
a pretty young woman, to turn him on? i don't believe lecter's ever seen a woman in eight years. and oh, are you ever his "taste" - so to speak.
good. then you should be able to remember the rules.
do not reach through the bars, do not touch the bars. you pass him nothing but soft paper - no pens or pencils. no staples or paperclips in his paper. use the sliding food carrier, no exceptions. do not accept anything he attempts to hold out to you. do you understand me?
i'm going to show you why we insist on such precautions.  on the afternoon of july 8, 1981, he complained of chest pains and was taken to the dispensary. his mouthpiece and restraints were removed for an ekg. when the nurse bent over him, he did this to her.
the doctors managed to re-set her jaw, more or less, and save one of her eyes. his pulse never got over eighty-five, even when he ate her tongue. i keep him in here.
you might have suggested that in my office, and saved me the time.
when she's finished, bring her out.
what you're doing, miss starling, is coming into my hospital to conduct an interview, and refusing to share information with me. for the third time!
he's my patient! i have rights! i'm not just some turnkey, miss starling. i shouldn't even be here this afternoon. i had a ticket to holiday on ice.
bad news, hannibal.
gourmet magazine has rejected your recipe for braised kidneys.
perhaps you should have been less specific about what kind. stand him by the toilet. then leave us.
such a lot of correspondence! i can hardly wait to analyze it in more detail.  but first things first.
i thought she might be looking for a civil rights violation in migg's death, so i bugged you.  not a word to me in all these years, hannibal. then crawford sends his bit of fluff over here, and you just turn to jelly. it's too pathetic.
you still think you're going to walk on some beach, and see the birdies? i don't think so, hannibal.  i called senator ruth martin, and she never heard of any deal with you. she never heard of clarice starling, either. they scammed you, hannibal.
when crawford gets through milking you, he's giving you to baltimore homicide for the raspail murder. and they're preparing some special surprises for you right now, in my electroshock room.
the starling bitch wants you to rot here, in this little box, till your teeth fall out and you're soiling diapers. you've seen the old ones, hannibal. they weep when their stewed peaches get cold. that'll be you, too. unless - you trade with me.
there never was a deal with senator martin - but there is now. i've been on the phone for hours, hannibal, on your behalf. here's what you get: if you identify buffalo bill, and the girl is found in time, senator martin will have you transferred to brushy mountain state prison, in tennessee.
the governor has already agreed. you get books, a view of the woods, and plenty of exercise time.
and best of all, you'd be out of jack crawford's reach, forever. the senator will verify these terms on the phone, and guarantee them in writing.
in exchange, i get your full cooperation in publishing a professional account of this - my successful interviews with you. you publish nothing. and i get exclusive access to any material from catherine martin.  so. do you accept my demands? answer me, hannibal.
you'll answer me now, or by god, you'll answer to baltimore homicide. who is buffalo bill?
senator martin, meet dr. hannibal lecter.
out. let's go.