Though Will did not know much of anything about wine he had no doubt it would be atrociously expensive and far too fancy if he ever let Hannibal describe it, avoiding the topic by pushing Hannibal to a chair and forcing the man to allow him, for once, to get something.

Hannibal, on the other hand, was quite pleased with how quickly his Will fell apart in his absence, something he was certain Will would begin to notice soon, as well as the unconscious act of gripping at his wrist in an unveiled, if unconscious, show of trust by the empath. And so, Hannibal allowed Will to take his coat and busy away in the kitchen as he basked in the pampering, the atmosphere quite pleasantly domestic in his opinion and something Hannibal could get used to. His eyes flicked back to reality as Will's arm came into view, passing him a twenty dollar glass filled with his 2005 Bodegas Roda Cirsion, Hannibal tilting his lips in a warm smile saved solely for his Will, before taking a sip and feeling a tickling in his chest as the other man chugged half the glass down in nervousness. Hannibal had missed the unconscious actions of his empath, even in the short time apart, and Hannibal took another quick sip, uncharacteristically quickly, to hide his own smile before he began, as it was clear Will had no intentions to do so himself.

"So, Will, how have the last few days been?" Hannibal asked though he could see the answer in Will's sunken eyes.

"Uhnmm, for the most part fine. Just the last couple of days I couldn't sleep and when I did i-it was just h-. It was insanity, like actual insanity surrounding me."

Hannibal leaned forward, placing his glass down on the side-table and focusing on his Will, who seemed like he was bursting with the need to get out of his own head in any way possible. "Go on Will, what happened."

Will sighed before beginning, "There was so much blood-" he chocked at the slickness he could still feel, "I was in a field, and I was running, but the Stag was behind me and I-I just, I just ran. But it just follows me and then Hobbs was there and all these people were screaming at me, but I couldn't have saved them, I t-tried but I-I-I just c-couldn't..." Will sobbed lightly, feeling his mind dragging him back into that scene of helplessness, crying out for unanswered aid, but he was snapped out of it to the sight of Hannibal's fingers resting on his necks pulse.

Hannibal raised his handkerchief, Will taking it and scrubbing at his running nose, gulping down the rest of his wine and then following it down with the glass Hannibal offered him as well.

Hannibal stood to grab the bottle and filled both their glasses, Will's more-so, before retaking his seat. The chair had thick arms, and a high back. It was soft enough despite the wear and Hannibal had to lean over it to actually face Will, but he would not turn it, having learned where his Will drew the line. He sipped at the wine in a far slower motion than Will and savoured its taste as the man ceased panicking.

"You could not have stopped it Will," Hannibal spoke lightly, conciliatory, "You said yourself you couldn't have, they were gone by the time you got there. You say you saw Hobbs, but who were the other people Will?"

"I... don't know, I didn't see their faces, they just screamed."

"And What else Will?" Hannibal encouraged.

Will thought for a moment, the head on the post, the head on the fence. He didn't recognize the face at the time but now he did, and it was the very same severed head he was called to the next day. He had woken up in a field and Will finally wondered for a moment where his body had wandered that night. Had he really gone over the edge and killed someone? But the scene had been so calculated, so personal, and Will suddenly realized, the blood draining from his face.

"The Ripper."

"The Ripper? What about him Will?" Hannibal leaned further, asking in a perfect image of a confused outsider while internally watching with such pride as his Will's broken mind fixed together the pieces Hannibal had left for him, waiting in earnest anticipation for what Will would say next.

Will noticed none of this with his eyes blurred over in thought as a night unremembered was slowly piecing itself together using the clues left in his dreams, his nightmares.

"He... he's the murderer. He stuck that guys head on a fence post and I knew...I-I saw it." Will shuddered in fear, Hannibal in pleasure, and the doctor moved closer to calm the babbling male.

"You think the Ripper is involved? Its not his classic MO and yes, agent Crawford has already informed me the basics of your latest case when I called him about you missing our appointment." Hannibal joked with the younger male to lighten the mood before Will delved too deep into this man, who was indeed familiar with Will, himself, and Will's dogs as a delicious meal.

"It was him."

Will had never ordered from the Barista, Hannibal had. He had never known of the egregious offense of the pig insulting him, but Will had seen the man when he called for Will's drink, and, for a moment, made eye contact. It had actually just been luck, as well as some half-planning, to find Will outside, wandering in a field while completely asleep. He had lifted the male into his car, and drove to the highway. He had his black garbage pickers uniform on, grasped the red stick and pulled Will out by the wrist, his Will following easily to the fence where Hannibal pulled down the black baseball cap he wore just in case, pulling on a pair of gloves before picking out the barista's head from the garbage bag he towed and shoving it down onto the post as hard as he could. It went in easily enough, Hannibal having carved out the innards for a nice cream sauce days before-hand, but wasn't far enough for his liking so Hannibal swung the flatter head of the stick against the empty-skulled criminals own until it was stuck on well. He then brought Will back to his shack and released him back into the field, pressing their foreheads together before Will was left and Hannibal returned home for the little nights sleep he would get that night.

But Will had absorbed enough and Hannibal figured it best to stir the mans genius before he got too far. Will's non-therapist reached forward to pat his cheek, Will only then noticing how close the other had gotten which was something he usually took note of right away but chalked it up to the wine in his system.

Will laughed as he came to another conclusion, "Every-time you come over I get drugged or drunk."

Hannibal smirked lightly at that, "Would you not consider alcohol a drug?"

"Not really helping your case." Will laughed again.

"I suppose not, but I would consider that every-night when I have drunk with you, I have not seen you wander when asleep."

Will thought about it for a moment, before dramatically shaking his head. "Doubt it, I'm drunk most nights, not to brag." He grinned at that, snapping non-existent suspenders, and realizing how much the light liquor had gotten to him, not even remembering finishing his third glass.

"Well," Hannibal smiled back in an innocent way, "perhaps it is the company then." He suggested lightly.

Will thought about that for a long time, and when Hannibal moved to leave ten minutes later, Will nearly stopped him, afraid of what he might do alone when he realized that Hannibal was right, as usual. But more importantly than that, Hannibal was able to ground him without him even having realized it was happening and the doctor knew it too, he was sure.