"I just don't believe it, Hannibal," Alana says once they're sitting down. "Will's not a killer. He may spend his life imagining himself as one, but he isn't."
Hannibal stares at her silently, taking a sip of wine.
"The case was so simple. All of the pieces fit together so easily, it doesn't make any sense."
Of course it does. He's a master at puzzles. Completed his first one before he learned to speak.
"He never mentioned anything that seemed out of line to you? You're a doctor and a psychiatrist – there's no way you could not notice something was wrong."
Doctor-patient confidentiality, dear.
"And the body – they never found Abigail!"
And they never will. You're eating her right now.
"He loved her like a daughter." After a moment, "as did you."
Yes, especially with this red wine sauce and salad. A real treat.
"Something is wrong. Fishy," she says, gesturing to her plate and attempting a smile.
I know you think you've just made a clever food pun. Unfortunately that's not exactly… fish.
"In Will's words 'this wasn't his design."
No, it was mine.
"What do you think about it, Hannibal? How do you see it – perceive it, if you will?" she asks suddenly.
"Perception is a tool that's pointed on both ends," he finally says.