Hannibal Lecter Transcripts: Hannibal S2E11

Hannibal: Among gourmands, the ortolan bunting is considered a rare but debauched delicacy. A rite of passage, if you will. Preparation calls for the songbird to be drowned alive in Armagnac. It is then roasted and consumed whole in a single mouthful.

Will: Ortolans are endangered.

Hannibal: Who amongst us is not?

Will: I haven't been gorged, drowned, plucked, and roasted. Not yet.

Hannibal: Traditionally, during this meal, we are to place shrouds over our heads, hiding our faces from God. I don't hide from God.

Will: Bones and all?

Hannibal: Bones and all. After my first ortolan, I was euphoric. A stimulating reminder of our power over life and death.

Will: I was euphoric when I killed Freddie Lounds.

Hannibal: Tell me, did your heart race when you murdered her?

Will: No, it didn't.

Hannibal: A low heart rate is a true indicator of one's capacity for violence. Your design is evolving. Your choices affect the physical structures of your brain.

Will: Killing is changing the way I think.

Hannibal: Yes. You must understand that blood and breath are only elements undergoing change to fuel your radiance. Just as the source of light is burning.

Brian: Orthodontics confirmed. It's Freddie Lounds. A little bit of kerosene, fwoomp! Incendiary journalism.

Jimmy: See? No scabrous crust on her chin. She was dead before the match was struck.

Brian: Blood's already pooled to the lowest parts of her body. Been dead at least 24 hours.

Will: Freddie had a longing to be noticed. She was noticed.

Jack: Freddie Lounds's ultimate failing was her inability to keep herself out of her own stories.

Brian: There's more to this story. Check it out.

Hannibal: Severely-burned bodies tend to split along lines of musculature, but that looks like an incision.

Brian: That's right. He cut out her psoas muscles with, uh, it looks like a hunting knife.

Hannibal: A peculiar trophy.

Jack: Why did he burn her?

Brian: How many people has Freddie Lounds burned in her career?

Hannibal: Whoever did this was not striking out against Miss Lounds's exploitative brand of journalism. This is something else. This is something sacred.

Will: Freddie Lounds had to burn. She was fuel. Fire destroys and it creates. It is mythical. She won't rise from the ashes, but her killer will.

Hannibal: He's the one to be noticed now.

Margot: There's no baby. It isn't even an embryo yet, but here I am, feeling maternal.

Hannibal: You conspired with your unborn child to liberate yourself. You've made Will an unknowing accomplice.

Margot: I got what I wanted from Will... but I didn't understand what I was taking until the strip turned blue. I'm not proud of myself.

Will: Nor should you be. You said...

Margot: I lied.

Will: Did you know?

Hannibal: I was aware of Margot's goal of having a child. I was not aware you were the means to achieving it.

Will: What do you want from me?

Margot: Nothing... or as much as you'd like to give.

Will: As much as I would like to give?

Hannibal: I always thought men were an optional extra in childrearing, so... I'm not opposed to a male influence. As long as it's not my brother. He's not good with children.

Hannibal: Please.

Mason: I would like to tell you about camp. It was a wonderful childhood experience that keeps coming back to me. Papa paid for the whole thing, every summer, all 125 campers on Lake Michigan.

Hannibal: Your father was a generous man.

Mason: I've continued his charitable work today. Most of the campers are unfortunates who will do anything for a candy bar. Ha! Ha! Ha! Maybe I took advantage. Maybe I was rough with them. I'm not holding anything back. It's all okay. I got a walk on the charges.

Hannibal: What was your penance?

Mason: I got 500 hours of community service. I worked at the dog pound and I received some court-ordered therapy.

Hannibal: Was therapy helpful?

Mason: I got the doctor involved in something unethical, so he'd cut me some slack.

Hannibal: That's not helpful.

Mason: Papa called it "altruistic punishment".

Hannibal: Mason... please...

Mason: Oh. Papa was a prodigy in the field of meat, but his real genius was for human nature. He could look at a man... and see his weakness.

Hannibal: Your father is dead. A boy's illusions are no basis for a man's life, Mason. Margot is the only family you have left.

Mason: My sister loves me, Dr. Lecter. She has to or she's destitute.

Hannibal: Vergers are noted expansionists.

Mason: And I am the sole Verger heir.

Hannibal: Unless biology provides another.

Will: I've been so preoccupied with taking a life, I'm, uh... having trouble wrapping my head around making one.

Hannibal: When men become fathers, they undergo biochemical changes that affect the way they think.

Will: You said the same thing happens when men become killers.

Hannibal: Fathers can be killers. What sort of father would you be?

Will: I would be a good father.

Hannibal: How quickly we form attachments something that does not yet exist.

Will: I'm not attached. I'm... I'm only... anticipating attachment.

Hannibal: We have a deep-seated need to interact with our children. It helps us discover who we are.

Will: Have you ever been a father?

Hannibal: I was to my sister. She was not my child, but she was my charge. She taught me so much about myself. Her name was... Mischa.

Will: Was?

Hannibal: She's dead. Abigail reminded me so much of her.

Will: Why did you kill her?

Hannibal: What happened to Abigail had to happen. There was no other way.

Will: There was. But there isn't now.

Hannibal: Would you protect this child in the way you couldn't protect Abigail?

Will: I still dream about Abigail. I dream that I'm... teaching her how to fish.

Hannibal: I'm sorry... I took that from you. Wish I could give it back.

Will: So do I.

Hannibal: Occasionally, I drop a teacup to shatter on the floor. On purpose. I'm not satisfied when it doesn't gather itself up again. Someday perhaps, a cup will come together.

Hannibal: Every creative act has its destructive consequence, Will. The Hindu god Shiva is simultaneous destroyer and creator. Who you were yesterday is laid waste to give rise to who you are today.

Will: How many lies have had to be... sanctified? How many consciences... devastated?

Hannibal: As many as were necessary.

Will: You sacrificed Abigail. You cared about her as much as I did.

Hannibal: Maybe more. But then, how much has God sacrificed?

Will: What god do you pray to?

Hannibal: I don't pray. I have not been bothered by any considerations of deity, other than to recognize how my own modest actions pale beside those of God.

Will: I prayed... I would see Abigail again.

Hannibal: Well, your prayer did not go entirely unanswered. You saw part of her. Will... should the universe contract, should time reverse and teacups come together... a place could be made for Abigail in your world.

Will: What place would that be?

Hannibal: You've lost a child, Will. It seems you're likely to gain one. God is beyond measure in wanton malice... and matchless in his irony.

Mason: No, no, no. Cancel that one. I remember walking the swine fairs with my father, looking over the competition. Papa's little silver knife ever ready to slip out of his waistcoat and stick into the back of a pig to check the depth of fat.

Hannibal: Your education was an odd one.

Mason: Ha! Ha! Ha! Oh, those were good, funny times. Papa would stab 4-H show pigs who thought everyone was their friend, scrubbed in milk and baby powder. Such coddled little things.

Hannibal: Part of a show pig's consideration is its happiness.

Mason: If we were truly considerate of a pig's happiness... we wouldn't eat them.

Hannibal: What about Margot's happiness?

Mason: Papa taught me how to stick the knife in only as deep as necessary, to test the thickness of her skin.

Hannibal: You miscalculated... struck a nerve.

Mason: Margot would love to stick a knife into me, and it wouldn't be to test the thickness of my skin.

Hannibal: She tried to kill you once already.

Mason: "To a male heir confirmed as my descendent..." It's a very clever loophole she's found in Papa's will. Clearly, he did not take into account how resourceful she is.

Hannibal: Neither did you.

Mason: I can be resourceful too. If she's not pregnant, she will be. Margot's very tenacious that way.

Hannibal: This child would be a Verger. You would have an heir to carry on the family name, to carry on your name.

Mason: I'd have an heir... only if I die.

Hannibal: One observes only things which are already on the mind. What's on your mind?

Alana: I'm feeling pressure to believe something I don't trust, and that pressure is making me paranoid.

Hannibal: Who's pressuring you?

Alana: Will.

Hannibal: We'll never really be alone, will we? He'll always be in the room.

Alana: Do you feel like you're helping him? Making progress?

Hannibal: Will is finally finding himself. He's getting better.

Alana: Doesn't seem to be getting better.

Hannibal: Are you questioning my therapy?

Alana: I'm questioning everything. It's all blurry and subjective. I feel empty, like I've given blood.

Hannibal: Alana, you've given more than blood. Have you been firing a gun?

Alana: I told you I was feeling paranoid.