Hannibal or Dr. Lecter

Hannibal found himself pulling into the rocky, bumpy driveway in front of the pound, pulling his keys from the slot and stepping out, dusting off his suit that cost more than his car alone. He walked toward the double doors, resting his hand on the handle and pushing inward silently. His eyes drifted to the front desk where a raunchy looking man with an overgrown, greasy beard sat, a cheap cigarette rested between his lips as he leaned back, his hat rested over his eyes until he heard a small ding, signaling an arrival that jolted him upward. "Can I help you?" He said gruffly, stabbing out his cigarette as he looked up at Hannibal.

Hannibal grimaced at the scent of kibble and uncleanness, his nose curling and upper lip twitching in disgust. He cleared his throat, folding his hands behind his back. "I'm looking for a hybrid." He stated calmly, and the man nodded toward the cages behind him, rattling as the hybrids clawed them. "Straight back." He muttered rudely. Hannibal would remember his rudeness. He traveled back, looking around the cages for something that caught his eye. Some of the hybrids serve their full animal form, and some are in their hybrid form. Both were malnourished and either whining or whimpering. He saw felines, barking pups, and further more, yet he latched onto nothing until he reached the end of the dirty hall, stopping at your cage.

Hannibal examined the sign on your small cage, tilting his head as he looked at your growling form. He looked toward the clerk, who sank in his chair, dreading coming up to you. He sauntered down the hallway, sighing deeply as he approached Hannibal. "This mutt almost ripped my hand off," he spat, glaring at you. "Well. They have caught my eye. Paperwork?" Hannibal offered a polite smile toward the hesitating man.