But none of them are farmers or butchers, none of them are survivalists, and where would they be without him? None of them are willing to question where he gets the meat, as long as he keeps them fed. None of them are willing to entertain the questions he sees flickering in their eyes over a meal he refuses to let become less elegant, despite the less-than-ideal situation and the utilitarian plainness of their surroundings.
Hannibal Lecter's Cookbook of the Apocalypse: Somehow this did not end up crack.