Rust can do nothing more than watch as Doctor Lecter makes simple work out of unbuttoning his shirt and exposing his own bleeding Mark... Goddamn. Goddamn it. A helpless blankness flutters across his face as he watches the man unveil his Mark, identical, just as freshly stained as his own. Four-pointed star, angled like an elongated diamond...

He grimaces at Hannibal's words, his Biblical association to their shared image. What a fucking prick; is he really some twisted Bible-thumper, or is this way of trying to rattle Rust on this subject of supernatural core values?

You're in for one real surprise, if you think that's going to work. "Oh yeah, you would know all about influencing everything around you, wouldn't you," Rust hisses against the glass. It doesn't make sense, though...Lecter couldn't have arranged this, could he? He isn't some Charles Mansion type maniac -- and really, as far as Rust is concerned, he has a hard time believing in this, let alone what else the existence of Soul Mates suggests. He isn't about to start suspecting Lecter of witchcraft.

Rust's fucking luck, though. After years of nothing he gets Mated, and it's wasted on this asshole. Is this the universe getting him back for all the nihilistic shit he has spouted in his lifetime?

As angry as Rust is, he thinks even that is being a little childish...