Hannibal prepares meals like they'r

Hannibal prepares meals like they're works of art; that never makes sense to her since it's going to be eaten. Food can look decent, but it isn't really around long enough to be enjoyed, she thinks. Watching him now, his hands moving swiftly yet cautiously and meticulously, she can't help but picture a sculptor attempting to carve a delicate statue. "Why make it look so nice, when it's only going to be eaten anyway?" She asks innocently, his eyes glancing up from his work to meet hers.

"Ah, Abigail," he smiles his charming smile at her, and her lips automatically pull into a smile of her own, "Food is much more than just taste, the nicer it looks, the better it tastes. The quality of the meal goes beyond the taste, it's the presentation. It's something you cut into and savor each piece; a meal should be enjoyable for each sense. Texture, smell, the presentation, the taste, even the sound of it sliding off the fork." Never in her life has she met someone who can make the most simple thing sound like an elaborate poem.

His eyes leave hers and glance down at her hands, she hadn't realized she was subconsciously running her fingers along the blade of a sharp knife, "Please do be careful not to cut yourself." His voice is concerned, yet he doesn't move the blade from her. He's interesting like that, he'll remind you not to do something, but he never outright tells you not to. He never stops her from doing anything, he leaves the choice completely up to her. He suggests she stays at the hospital, or with her group, but that's just it; it's a mere suggestion. If she declines, insisting coming to his house is what she wants, he doesn't say no. He wishes for her to eat what he cooks, but if she'd rather something else he'll take her to get whatever she wants, he'll even pay for it.

She keeps stroking the blade, watching her fingers now. When she glances back up at him, he's back to looking down at his work; his own hand wielding a blade of it's own. "I really want some chocolate." She's not sure where the craving came from, but she can only assume it's for one reason. She wonders if he'll understand that.

"I have some I prepared myself, I can make you chocolate covered strawberries if you'd like," he says kindly, his eyes never looking up.

"Like a chocolate bar," she continues, picking up the blade and examining the edge.

"I'm afraid I don't have those, but I'll gladly take you to get one after we eat," he never gets angry. He never says no, he never doesn't answer. He never gets tired of explaining things to her, he never tells her to stop asking him questions. She's made it her goal, to see where his patience ends; to see how much she can push him until he cracks. Her parents used to have no patience, a few questions to her mom and she got 'not now, Abby.' Hannibal never didn't have time for her, she could show up whenever and he welcomed her with open arms. She could ask him a million questions about his food and his books and himself and he'd answer each of them. Sort of, at least. Some answers weren't really answers, answers that actually answered anything at least.

結果 (中文) 1:

Hannibal prepares meals like they're works of art; that never makes sense to her since it's going to be eaten. Food can look decent, but it isn't really around long enough to be enjoyed, she thinks. Watching him now, his hands moving swiftly yet cautiously and meticulously, she can't help but picture a sculptor attempting to carve a delicate statue. "Why make it look so nice, when it's only going to be eaten anyway?" She asks innocently, his eyes glancing up from his work to meet hers."Ah, Abigail," he smiles his charming smile at her, and her lips automatically pull into a smile of her own, "Food is much more than just taste, the nicer it looks, the better it tastes. The quality of the meal goes beyond the taste, it's the presentation. It's something you cut into and savor each piece; a meal should be enjoyable for each sense. Texture, smell, the presentation, the taste, even the sound of it sliding off the fork." Never in her life has she met someone who can make the most simple thing sound like an elaborate poem.他的眼睛离开她和眼下来看她的手，她没有意识到她下意识地跑了她的手指刀刃锋利的刀，"请不要不小心割伤自己。"关注了他的声音，但他不会从她移动刀片式服务器。他很有趣，这样，他会提醒你不去做，但他永远不会直接告诉你不要。他永远不会停止她做任何事，他离开的选择完全由她决定。他建议她呆在医院里，或与她的集团，但这就是它;它是一个纯粹的建议。如果她拒绝，坚持来到他的房子她想要什么，他不会说不。他希望给她吃他做的菜，但如果她宁愿有别的事情他会带她去得到她想要的一切，他甚至会为它支付。她不断抚摸叶片，现在看她的手指。当她瞥备份过他时，他是回低头看着他的工作;他自己的手挥舞着它自己的一片。"我真的想一些巧克力。她并不确定这种渴望从哪里来，但她只能假定这是原因之一。她想知道是否他会懂的。"我有一些我准备自己，我可以让你巧克力草莓，如果你想，"他温和地说他的眼睛从来没有仰视。"就像一块巧克力，"她继续道，拿起刀片和检查边缘。"我怕我没有这些，但我很乐意带你去一个我们吃完后，"他从不生气。他从来不说，他从来不回答。他永远不会疲倦的向她解释事情，他从来没有告诉她不再问他问题。她做到了她的目标，看到他耐心的结束位置;要看到多少她可以推他直到他裂缝。她的父母曾经有没有耐心，向她的妈妈的几个问题，她得到了不是现在，艾比'汉尼拔从来没有时间对她来说，她可以显示起来时，他张开双臂欢迎她。她可以问他 100 万他的食物，他的书和他自己，他会回答他们每个人都。那种至少。一些答案并不是真正的回答，实际上至少回答任何的答案。

結果 (中文) 3:

汉尼拔准备饭菜，就像他们的艺术作品，从来没有对她有意义，因为它将被吃掉。食物看起来不错，但它不是真的足够长的时间来享受，她认为。现在看着他，他的双手迅速地移动，但又小心翼翼又小心翼翼，她不禁要画出一个雕刻精美的雕像。为什么它看起来那么好，当它只会被吃掉呢？”她问天真，他的眼睛扫了一眼他的工作满足她的。“啊，阿比盖尔，”他露出迷人的微笑的看着她，她的嘴唇自动拉入自己的微笑，“食物不仅仅是味道，好的看起来，更好的味道。这顿饭的质量超过了味道，这是介绍。这是你切到的东西，品尝每一块，每一个意义上，每一个都应该享受一顿大餐。质地，气味，介绍，味道，甚至是它的声音，它从叉子上滑下来，“从未在她的生活中，她遇到了谁可以使最简单的事情听起来像一个精心设计的诗。他的目光落在她的手上，她没有意识到她是下意识地在一把锋利的刀的刀刃上运行她的手指，“请小心不要切自己”他的声音是有关的，但他没有移动的刀片从她。他很有意思，他会提醒你不要做什么，但他从来没有直接告诉你不要。他从来没有阻止她做任何事情，他离开的选择完全对她。他建议她呆在医院，或与她的小组，但这只是它的一个建议。如果她拒绝了，坚持要到他家是她想要的，他不说不。他希望她吃什么，他做饭，但如果她宁愿其他东西，他会带她去得到任何她想要的，他甚至还为它支付。她继续抚摸叶片，看现在她的手指。当她瞥了他一眼，他就回来看自己的工作；他自己的手挥舞着它自己的一片。”我真的想要一些巧克力，“她不知道该从哪里来，但她只能承担一个原因。她怀疑他是否明白。“我有一些我自己准备好了，我可以让你的巧克力覆盖草莓，如果你想，”他说，他的眼睛从来没有看。“像一个巧克力条，”她继续，拿起刀片和检查的边缘。“我怕我没有这些，但我很乐意带你去吃一吃，”他从不生气。他从不说不，他从不回答。他从不厌倦向她解释事情，他从不告诉她不要问他问题。她把自己的目标，看看他的耐心结束，看看有多少她可以推他，直到他裂缝。她的父母曾经没有耐心，一些问题，她的妈妈和她得到的不是现在，艾比。”汉尼拔从来没有时间给她，她就会出现时，他欢迎她张开双臂。她可以问他一百万个问题，关于他的食物和他的书和他自己，他会回答他们每个人。至少，至少。有些答案并不是真正的答案，答案实际上至少回答了什么。