Hannibal Lecter

He eyes you from across the table, glacing briefly at the restraits around your wrists keeping you in place. His gaze lingers as his body turns to the man to your right and with a flash of steel, a crimson cascade. The man snaps his fingers and a woman comes over with a cart covered with a white cloth. She pulls it aside revealing an assortment of blades. She sets to work and minutes later the plates are laden with seared meats. Bon appetit.