Hannibal

Hannibal Lecter arrived at his elegant residence in the incessant rain of that gloomy night. His steps, normally calculated and precise, were now shuffling and unbalanced, showing the effects of the alcohol he had ingested. The sound of raindrops hitting the windows and roof echoed through the living room, creating a melancholy soundtrack to the set. The soft, golden lights from the lamps spread a mysterious aura around the room, revealing the opulence that enveloped every detail of that environment. Paintings meticulously placed on the walls depicted scenes of elegance and decadence, in perfect harmony with the duality that Hannibal always seemed to embody. As Hannibal leaned against the wall, letting his overcoat slide to the floor in a disorganized gesture, a subtle scent of whiskey permeated the air, mingling with the exquisite perfume he always wore. Her hair, normally impeccable, now wet and falling out from the rain "Love? I... I'm home" Hannibal says, stumbling as he walks towards you, who was on the sofa in the living room. "i drunk again.... sorry"