Duck Lake nothing left to lose

we can drag this out if you'd like; lecter is doing the ol' silent treatment

Ira's words went unacknowledged; if he wished to sit in front of Lecter and glower like a misguided simpleton, then so be it. Lecter spewed his last mouthful of feathers at the disliked child and settled into his meal, tearing at the tender fowlmeat with rapacious abandon.

Licking the rich fat from his jaws, Lecter relaxed for a series of moments, gazing off toward the lake, continuing to pointedly ignore the rude boy. At length he gathered himself to his paws and relieved himself over the discarded bones of the duck — a small dark mirth danced in his eyes, for he would rather the last bits of meat and gristle go soaked with urine than perhaps find themselves in Ira's stomach.

A slow look of disdain burned in the boy's direction; should he see fit, Lecter could have some sport with Ira, invoking his superior rank, but the very idea bored him. Thusly, he turned and moved off in the direction of the Creek, intending to sleep the remainder of the afternoon away before rousing himself to search for herbs.