Rust had no real intention of firing his gun, but he can't fight the habit to pull his gun at the sight of a potential threat. He still doesn't understand what Doctor Lecter has done, not quite, but his immediate assumption is that he's attempted self-harm, or suicide.

Until he continues to speak about a 'Mark.' With every cool and smooth word, Rust feels a burning, tearing pull across his skin, over a set of ribs below his clavicle. His face twists slightly, confusion and irritation making a complimentary mix in his features, until he finally winces at the pain.

He looks down, hand drifting from his firearm to move his necktie away from a darkening stain on his shirt. Incredulous, he pulls the tie loose a few inches and yanks a few buttons open, just enough to expose...

The shape of a four-pointed star, about two inches across. Its lines are dark and tinged with his blood, but slow-moving, seeping, not bleeding like a cut. The skin is puffy and irritated, glowing pink around the edges of the image. Is it...actually...?

When he looks up at Lecter again, rage is only just behind the surface of his skin, but clear just past his pale eyes. The mere idea that this is the mark of two Mated is at best distant behind the horrified roar in Rust's mind. "The fuck is this, some kinda joke? What the fuck did you do?"