semi-plotted starter call for @dubitavero. 

        Although the chatter that fills the auditorium is far from idle, Starling seeks respite from intensive questioning by grabbing her third cup of water from the drink station. This way, she fruitlessly attempts to stay away from those who incessantly grill her about her experiences with Hannibal Lecter, coupled with her infamous backslide from the FBI. ( She wonders why the institution invited her back, anyway, but soon recalls the fact that it thrives on fame more than truth. Why wouldn’t they want Special Agent Clarice Starling walking about? ) She stifles a groan at the thought.

       After a few uninterrupted sips of water, she spies a familiar face—- or, a familiar hairstyle and color, and inwardly feels relief. She knows it’s Dana Scully, the woman with whom she almost worked. It was many years ago. She hopes that Dana remembers her passing face, as they never talked much. ( Still, the act of walking up to the other woman is a bit self-centered, for Starling does it mainly to keep herself too busy for old male colleagues to question her. ) 

       “ Dana—-?” Her tone is far from timid. “It’s Clarice.” Encouraging recognition, she adds: “We took ethics together, back at the Academy.”