Will itches to pull the receiver away from his face, the rhythmic buzzing putting him in mind of hornets trying to crawl into his ear. It goes on for longer than he thinks it should.

Finally, a click.

"Freddie Lounds."

"Hi, Miss Lounds. This – this is Will Graham."

"Ah, Mr. Graham." She sounds so delighted Will can see the sheen of her eyes inside his head, vibrant and sharp in the dense fog. "I was wondering when you'd call."

"You were?"

"After everything that happened between you and Doctor Lecter," she simpers in mock sympathy and Will can feel his fingers beginning to tremble as he curls them tighter around the receiver. "I knew it was only a matter of time before one of my articles caught your attention."

"You do seem to have a fondness for him," Will manages to grind out, tensing his jaw to keep his voice from quivering.

"Well, it's an interesting case." It may just be the same old sense of paranoia Will always feels whenever he and Freddie talk, creeping up his spine like a cold set of fingers, but he's sure he hears the click of a voice recorder somewhere in the background. Is he on speakerphone? "Not just the murders themselves but how long he managed to evade capture. It's truly astonishing."

"I'm well aware of just how astonishing he can be, Ms. Lounds." The bandage wrapped tightly around his waist to protect the butterfly stitches still piecing him together start to itch. "But that's not why I'm calling."

"No, you're calling about the article."

"'Cannibal Goes Hungry' seems like a contradiction in terms, don't you think?"

"Not really." He can hear Freddie's smile in her voice, the apparent boredom of the conversation laced with a sort of smugness. Will supposes it must make for a nice change of pace, to be able to correct him on something he's missed. "As I'm sure you know from experience, Mr. Graham, a good steak is hard to find in an asylum, much less one made out of people."

"I wanted to ask you about your sources."

"I can't go into detail." Won't, Will thinks. You won't go into detail. "For obvious reasons. But I can tell you they're reliable."

Will runs the back of his hand across his face, smearing away the sweat already beginning to gather on his top lip.

"Th-thank you, Ms. Lounds. That's all I wanted to know."

"You're welcome, Mr. Graham. Say hello to Doctor Lecter for me, won't you?"

Will lets the receiver fall into the cradle with a heavy thunk, leaning with his hands on the table, breathing deeply. He smooths out the creases in the article he's printed and looks over the words for the ninth time:

Cannibal Goes Hungry:
Off-Piste Ordering Gets the Ripper Down.

Once again, one of Baltimore's most prolific serial killers finds himself in the news. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the cannibalistic serial killer more famously known by his handle, The Chesapeake Ripper, was convicted and incarcerated in Baltimore's State Hospital for the Criminally Insane just last month and our sources here at have revealed that the menu clearly isn't up to scratch...

Will doesn't need to read anymore, he already knows what the article says. And he doesn't believe a word of it.

"This isn't a petting zoo, Mr. Graham," Chilton is telling him as he leans back in his office chair, his chest puffed out with self-importance, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "I can't allow visitors to come and go as they please. It's unethical."

Will takes a breath, staring through the window at all the greenery outside. Reminding himself that freedom is only a five minute walk away. "It's unethical to lock up the innocent as well, Doctor Chilton, but that didn't stop you, did it?"

"That's neither here nor there. At the time we didn't –"

"I'm not interested in your excuses." Will turns to glare at a corner of Chilton's highly polished desk, ignoring both of their reflections as they stare back at him. "You can't talk to me about Lecter's treatment so let me do it myself. I need access to his cell."

"Does the FBI know you're here, Mr. Graham?"

"You want me to give Jack Crawford a call? Alright." Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, Will draws out his cell phone, taking his time as he clicks through the menu. "I'm sure he won't mind coming all the way down here. He'll probably want to give everything a once over anyway, make sure it's all running as it should."

Lips pursed into a thin line, Chilton reaches into his desk and before Will can find Jack's name in his phone's menu, tosses a laminated visitor's pass onto his desk.

"Take your time," Chilton sneers at him. "He's not going anywhere."