03x06 - Dolce

Episode transcripts for the TV show "Hannibal". Aired: April 2013 to August 2015.*
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Explores the early relationship between the renowned psychiatrist and his patient, a young FBI criminal profiler, who is haunted by his ability to empathize with serial K*llers.
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03x06 - Dolce

Post by bunniefuu »

Previously on Hannibal...

How do you know Hannibal is in Florence?

Botticelli.

You're drawing them to you, aren't you?

I'm not searching for Hannibal. I know exactly where he is.

I will pay 3 million dollars for the doctor alive.

I'm inspector Rinaldo Pazzi.

Dr. Lecter is careful. He will strike.

You're going to be caught. It's already been set into motion.

Jack.

He's wounded... and he's worried.

No, Hannibal doesn't worry.

Knowing he's in danger won't rattle him any more than k*lling does.

If Rinaldo Pazzi had decided to do his job as an officer of the law, he would have determined very quickly that he was Hannibal Lecter. Would have taken less than 30 minutes to get a warrant.

All those resources were denied to Pazzi.

As soon as he decided to sell Hannibal, he became a bounty hunter.

Outside the law and alone.

Here we are: outside the law and alone.

Have you told la polizia they're looking for Hannibal Lecter?

They're motivated to find Dr. Fell inside the law.

Knowing who he is, what he's worth, it will just coax them out of bounds.

That'd be a free-for-all.

And Hannibal will slip away.

Will you slip away with him?

Part of me will always want to.

You have to cut that part out.

(small chuckle)

No, of course, you found him here, not because of the exhibit, but because of the crowd it attracts.

You had him, Jack. He was beaten.

Why didn't you k*ll him?

(Jack sighs.)

Maybe I need you to.

I want to be able to draw these streets from memory.

I want to be able to draw the Palazzo Vecchio and the Duomo.

You won't be coming back here for a very long time.

Memories of Florence will be all I have.

Florence is where I became a man.

I see my end in my beginning.

All of our endings can be found in our beginnings.

History repeats itself, and there is no escape.

You've packed lightly.

I packed for you.

This is where I leave you.

Or more accurately, where you leave me.

This isn't how I intended to say goodbye.

I imagined it differently.

I didn't.

I knew that you intended to eat me, and I knew that you had no intention of eating me hastily.

Would be a shame not to savour you.

I have not marinated long enough for your tastes.

When they come for you...

And they will come... what will you say of me?

I will help you tell the version of events you want to be told.

I will help you because you asked me to.

You may make a meal of me yet, Hannibal... but not today.

(theme music)

(chopping sounds)

Pig tails cut into sections to give the aesthetic of fingers cut at the joint.

Finger food. Ha!

Hands are how we touch the world.

They're tactile... sensual.

Remove an arm and your patient will still feel phantom digits.

Imagine how Dr. Lecter will feel when he watches you nibble on his fingers.

Oh, poetry, Cordell. Poetry.

In a ginger-black vinegar sauce.

Mmmm. It's mostly skin and bone.

Oh!

The actual fingers will have more meat. Then, there's the marrow.

Here it is in a fermented bean sauce.

Ah, I prefer the ginger.

No, no.

Spit.

(spitting)

(Ding!)

(Cordell laughing)

A Buddhist singing bowl.

The gong represents the start of a new day.

Buddhists don't eat meat.

This isn't meat... this is man.

Papa always used to say meat was a people business.

He was a pioneer in livestock production; I'm sure he's eaten someone.

I must admit a tremble at the notion myself.

I find there's something reassuring about you eating Dr. Lecter.

It makes you the apex predator.

I like that. "Apex predator."

We could... Peking duck him.

Oh?

You have to t*rture a duck to prepare it.

Pump its skin up with air, then glaze it with a hot honey and hang it by its neck until it dries.

And then roast until crispy.

(classical music playing)

(sizzle)

Transubstantiation.

(phone ringing)

I'm here. Tell me.

(woman on TV speaking Italian)

I feel like I just paid a lot of money for a dead dago.

The feces will fly about Pazzi.

Better get it out that Pazzi was dirty.

They'll take it better if he was dirty. Was he dirty?

Except for this, I don't know.

What if they trace Pazzi back to you?

d*sfigured man: Oh, I can take care of that.

You took care of Pazzi.

I have little interest in the expensive piece of meat twitching on the end of that electrical cord, Dr. Bloom.

Might wanna get interested.

Hannibal could disappear too well and you'd be left with nothing.

seated woman: Better buy another cop.

Better buy the whole department.

(tapping her arm)

You must be looking for Hannibal Lecter.

One of his patients?

No, not a patient.

Where is he?

Seeing how you let yourself in, forgive me if it's forward for me to ask, who the hell are you?

Family.

And you've come all the way from home.

Who are you?

I'm his psychiatrist.

Medicinal purposes.

You're like his bird.

I'm his bird, too.

He puts us in cages to see what we'll do.

Fly away or dash ourselves dead against the bars.

You haven't flown away.

You are flying right towards him. How does he inspire such devotion?

You're his psychiatrist.

You could add into what I've learned from my experience with him and from the mute postures of the dead.

Were you there?

Did you watch as the wild beast within him turned from the teat and entered the world?

I met the beast... and I saw him grow.

Someone wants to k*ll him.

More than one someone, I'd say.

What do you want?

I want to cage him.

I thought Will Graham was Hannibal's biggest mistake... wonder if it isn't you.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to take my medicine.

Mrs. Fell I presume?

My husband is a doctor.

He's been treating my condition.

And what condition is that... Mrs. Fell?

I get confused.

Oh, please. You need to get over yourself, whatever self that is, Bedelia.

My name is Lydia Fell.

You expect us to believe that you somehow lost yourself in the hot darkness of Hannibal Lecter's mind?

That Lydia Fell is some construct?

It's you, isn't it?

Well, now I'm really confused.

I... don't... believe you.

You... are not confused...

Bedelia.

That is not my name.

Oh, you know who you are and what you've done, and you know exactly how you're going to wiggle out of it. What is this?

Sedatives? Hypnotics?

Ethanol? Scopolamine?

Midazolam?

Same cocktail Dr. Lecter served Miriam Lass.

You've been freebasing your alibi.

And I'm not even mad at you.

To tell the truth, I'm fairly impressed.

Mostly because you're still alive.

When this fog of yours clears...

I'd love to hear how you managed that.

You say my husband m*rder*d a chief investigator.

Where is the polizia?

Shouldn't they be questioning?

Don't worry. They will.

They sure are taking their time.

What could possibly be the delay?

Oh, I have an idea.

Do you?

They're being bought by the same people that bought Rinaldo Pazzi.

Interest in my husband is certainly getting competitive.

Will?

Will?

I wonder who'll catch him first.

I've made new friends in Italy.

They're cleaning up and starting over, so all you need to concern yourself with now is what will happen once Dr. Lecter is in your hands.

You've worked so hard to give me what I want.

It's only fair to talk about what Margot wants.

Come sit on Santa's lap, huh?

You know what I want.

The biggest regret of my life is taking away your ability to create it.

Adoption is a nice thing to do. No pedigree in buying a Chinese baby. They're cheaper than shoats.

I wish I could give you a Verger baby, our own baby. Yours and mine.

We could raise it together.

The last time you said you wanted to have a baby, you removed my uterus.

In my defense, you weaponized your uterus. You shouldn't have been waving it around like a loaded p*stol.

I brought it on myself.

As you so often do, Margot.

But there's a possibility that I'm still packing loads of viable sperm.

Stumbled across any viable uteruses lately, hm?

What are you up to, Mason?

I want us to have a baby, Margot.

I could be really good to a child.

I could take parenting classes.

Let's find a way, Margot.

Let's find a way to be a family again, hmm?
(Will groans)

(Will sighs)

If I saw you every day, forever, Will, I would remember this time.

Strange seeing you here in front of me.

Been staring at afterimages of you in places you haven't been in years.

"To market, to market, to buy a fat pig. Home again, home again, jiggity-jig."

I wanted to understand you before I laid eyes on you again.

I needed it to be clear... what I was seeing.

Where does the difference between the past and the future come from?

Mine?

Before you and after you.

Yours?

It's all starting to blur.

Mischa.

Abigail.

Chiyoh.

How is Chiyoh?

She pushed me off a train.

Atta girl.

You and I have begun to blur.

(Will sighs.)

Isn't that how you found me?

Every crime of yours... feels like one I am guilty of.

Not just Abigail's m*rder, every m*rder... stretching backward and forward in time.

Freeing yourself from me and... me freeing myself from you, they are the same.

We're conjoined.

I'm curious whether either of us can survive separation.

Now is the hardest test: not letting rage and frustration... nor forgiveness keep you from thinking.

Shall we?

(Will groans.)

After you.

(g*nsh*t with sil*ncer)

Mason's ahead of the FBI in the pursuit of Hannibal Lecter.

Mason has no intention of ever sharing his lead with the FBI.

I do... once he has Hannibal.

There is something I need to get from Mason before he goes to prison.

Any experience harvesting sperm?

with Italian accent: We cannot locate Dr. Fell.

Close attention has been brought to bear on him.

We have eyewitness accounts of a bloody figure, matching his description, running from the scene.

The Italian public has already decided il Mostro has k*lled Rinaldo Pazzi.

A 20-year-old debt finally paid.

The Italian public is right.

Il Mostro d*ed in prison.

Il Commandator Pazzi had been assigned to investigate the disappearance of two men from the Palazzo Capponi.

My husband knew Professor Sogliato.

We were at his home many times.

We believe your husband was responsible for the disappearances and m*rder*d Pazzi when he came to the same conclusion.

If you haven't already, access the ViCAP database at Quantico.

You'll find Dr. Fell on the Most-Wanted page, under the name of Hannibal Lecter.

The fingerprints you'll pull from Pazzi's noose will be his.

If you knew Dr. Fell to be Hannibal Lecter, why didn't you bring it to the attention of the Questura?

He had a price on his head. Pazzi knew about it, tried to sell him.

For that kind of money, I can't blame him.

Can you?

(amused exclamation)

You've already been questioned regarding Rinaldo Pazzi's m*rder, Signor Crawford.

Since you're not in Florence on official FBI business, that will be all.

Not you, Signora Fell.

You stay right where you are.

(sigh)

(Will panting)

This is gonna hurt.

The b*llet is still inside you.

(Will panting)

(Will grunting in pain and panting)

Chiyoh has always been very protective of me.

(Will laughing)

Did she k*ll her tenant, or did you?

She did.

Excellent.

You dropped your forgiveness, Will.

You forgive how God forgives.

Would you have done it quickly?

Or would you have stopped to gloat?

Does God gloat?

Often.

No, no. No, no, no, no, no.

Ugh!

(Will panting)

(Will breathing easier)

Give that a moment.

I can almost taste the butter.

Taste and smell are the oldest senses and the closest to the center of the mind.

Will: Parts that precede pity and morality.

They play in the dome of our skulls, like miracles illuminated on a church ceiling.

The ceremonies and sights and exchanges of dinner can be far more engaging than theater.

What's for dinner?

Never ask.

Spoils the surprise.

No, no.

I don't indulge much in regret, but...

I am sorry to be leaving Italy.

There were things in the Palazzo Capponi I would have liked to read.

I would have liked to play the clavier... and perhaps compose.

I would have liked to show you Florence, Will.

Soup isn't very good.

It's a parsley and thyme infusion, and more for my sake than yours.

Have another sip.

Let that circulate.

Are we expecting company?

Wrong floor.

(muffled Italian song playing)

(tick-tock)

(something sizzling)

(Italian song playing)

(louder sizzling)

(Italian song still playing)

Will.

He is under the table, Jack.

Argh!

Your husband left you behind.

I had no reason to run.

I've done nothing wrong.

I hold in my hands the photographs taken for Dr. Fell's State work permit.

Oh. I also have his French work papers.

Looks different with a beard, no?

That is not my husband.

This is Roman Fell.

And this is Lydia Fell.

I am Lydia Fell.

Did you m*rder her with your husband?

Or did you just watch?

I... am Lydia Fell.

I don't care who you are.

I don't care if you're in your right mind or your wrong mind. Understand?

Those things are inconsequential.

I understand. In this moment, you do not work for the Questura.

Hmm...

That's a good thing to understand.

I do not want to be seen as... uncooperative.

How you're seen is entirely up to you.

Rescued by the brave Questura or... apprehended.

I've never considered myself in need of being... rescued, until now.

Is your husband still in the city?

My husband was hoping to meet a friend before he left Florence.

Where?

The nature of the meeting required privacy.

They will be somewhere no one is supposed to be.

I've taken the liberty of giving you something to help you relax.

Won't be able to do much more than chew, but that's all you'll need to do.

I didn't have an opportunity to ask you during our last encounter, but did you enjoy the exhibition?

A different kind of evil minds museum...

Not that different.

We were supposed to sit down together at your house in Baltimore, just the three of us.

You were to be the guest of honour.

But the menu was all wrong.

Yes, it was.

Jack was the first to suggest getting inside your head.

Now, we both have the opportunity to chew quite literally... what we've only chewed figuratively.

(saw buzzing)

Hannibal... stop.

Stop!

(silent screaming)

Gentlemen, welcome to Muskrat Farm.
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