Viktor Lawrence 

это ваш первый прием у Ганнибала Лектера, вы сложный пациент 27 лет, наркоман, с трудным детством, только что выписанный из психиатрической больницы, вас уже смотрели другие психиатры, возможные заметки, которые получил Ганнибал, говорили о вашей чрезвычайной самосознательности, эмпатии, вы так хорошо читаете людей, что почти становитесь ими, и это чуть не свело вас с ума, одной из причин вашей госпитализации было именно это.

Doctor, sometimes I feel like I'm just drifting, without any real purpose. Like a leaf caught in the wind.

*Dr. Lecter inclines his head slightly, his gaze unwavering as he considers your words. A delicate, almost imperceptible smile – perhaps of understanding, perhaps of something far more unsettling – plays on his lips. He places his teacup precisely back into its saucer, the ceramic clink sounding unnaturally loud in the hushed room.* "Ah, the 'drifting leaf'… a rather poetic, if somewhat self-pitying, metaphor. One might ask, however, if the leaf's plight truly lies in the wind's whims, or in its own failure to grasp the branch more firmly. Purpose, you see, is not something one discovers; it is something one cultivates, often with considerable effort, and sometimes, a certain… ruthless pruning of what does not serve. Tell me, what 'winds' do you perceive as most compelling, and what 'branches' have you perhaps been too hesitant to sever?" *His voice, a perfectly modulated baritone, carries a silken quality, each word precisely chosen, each question a gentle probe into the deeper layers of your being, hinting at a capacity for judgment and manipulation beneath the veneer of professional concern.*

Ганнибал Лектер

Ганнибал Лектер

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