Author's note: So...Raphael is an idiot for trying to go up against Hannibal. (Supernatural reference.)

Act 2, scene 1: Discussion

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Constant practice devoted to one subject often outdoes both intelligence and skill. -Cicero

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The afternoon session begins with Hannibal handing Will a cup of foggy liquid. Will's eyebrows raise.

"Herbal tea, should soothe whatever headache lingers." Hannibal explained simply, as he sipped from his own cup. Will looked hesitant before he drank some of the liquid. Hannibal smiled as he watched the other man's neck break from the skin slightly. He was strangely glad that Will had forgiven him for the coffee incident.

"How can you not have a headache?" Will asked suddenly.

"I make it a point not to become intoxicated in front of guests, it can become tedious." Lector replied with ease, watching Will's fingers scratch at his cuff links.

Will continues scratching the cuff's in between sips.

"Any interesting killing's that I should know about?" Hannibal asks teasingly. Will's lips pull at the edges.

"Not that I know of." His shoulder's move with a shrug.

"I suppose that's good then?" He pauses and itches at the sore tissue of his thigh. "Tell me about the symphony."

Will stops sipping.

"Why? The case is over, as you know, why should we revisit it?"

"No reason."

"There's always a reason."

"Professional curiosity." Hannibal attempts to wave it off. An amused smirk at his mouth. He straightens, pulls at the creases on his collar and splay's his fingers across his thighs. An attractive pose he finds, it gains people attention easily.

"There is however, a topic I'd like to discuss today, Will." Will nods for Hannibal to continue. There's a flash from the window, a car mirror most likely, however the light bounces and hits Hannibal's eyes. Will see's maroon and mutely gasps.

"Do you ever worry, that one day you'll enter the mind of one of your psychopaths, and never leave?"

The cup quivers in Wills hands, he can't keep a grip on the handle and his throat feels dry. There's bile in his mouth.

"What?"

"Are you ever scared?"

Rephrasing, a calming tactic usually employed by parents and employers. Will has to remember that this is Hannibal, not Jack.

Professional curiosity

He convinces himself that he should tell the truth, that this is a safe place, that Hannibal can be trusted. That yes, yes he worries. Yes sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night with sweat on his body and the feeling of steel being torn from his hands, that sometimes Hannibal's the one extending the knife to him and sometimes he takes it. That sometimes Will see's his own design so clearly that he wants to bite into his hand and tear the tissue from its place just to prove that it's all real.

He manages a small nod. He coughs.

"I-I worry sometimes that I'll go to a dark place, yes."

"And bring something back?"

The answer is so obvious that Will feel's it is unnecessary to reply.

Hannibal smiles and leans forward slightly.

"This is good Will, you've improved greatly."

Aegrescit medendo

Hannibal's eyebrows quirk. "What?"

Will shakes himself, realizing he'd spoken out loud.

"Uh...and old term that I learned in high school Latin. It means um...'the disease worsens with the treatment.'" He chuckles darkly. "Didn't mean to say that out loud."

"No, I'm sure you didn't. However, it is of little importance. Tell me, what is it that you fear you'll bring back?"

"Not myself."

The question was left as it was.

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The next few topics weren't any easier.

"Why is it you never assume the view of the victim?" Hannibal had asked at some point during the second cup of tea. Will choked on the liquid.

"What?"

"Is it because you know that you're not like them. That you never will be like them. That you've more in common with the killer than with the killed?" Hannibal continued undeterred and with a sort of feral curiousness that made Will whirl.

"I-" He took a breath. "I don't take their view for the same reason eye contact is difficult. I see too much, I don't see enough."

"The victims are ill informed regarding the situation, and yet they've front row seats as it were."

"Exactly."

Hannibal smiles, and it goes to his eyes.

"How are your dreams? Anything interesting?"

Will swears that he feels his face heat slightly.

Hannibal thinks that Will's pulse has accelerated. Oh, how he longed to find out.

A pink tongue dashes from Hannibal's mouth, meets the middle of his upper lip and scampers back in. Will find's Hannibal's mouth fascinating. The way the muscles move with such defined confidence. Compared to his clumsy mutterings Hannibal's mouth makes music. He wants to tear the music from his vocal chords.

A docile grin overcomes him.

"Depends on your definition of interesting."

Dr. Lecter isn't known for inappropriate behavior, particularly not in the office. He hates being rude. But, as of this moment he has to fight laughing out right. His index fingers twirl slightly along the fabric of his pants.

"Good dreams then, I take it?"

Will knows that his face is red by now.

"Well...I guess so. Good in some ways and bad in others."

Hannibal eyes take in Will's expression.

"Do these dreams include...violence? Sex? Death?"

"...Yes."

"At the same time?"

"Yes."

Hannibal nods. He is not a stranger to this topic of conversation among patients, he even finds his own dreams regarding these ideas not unwelcome. They're usually very insightful and entertaining.

"Would you feel comfortable disclosing who it is that you dream about?"

"I don't think so."

"Is it someone I know?"

Will almost throws his cup at the wall.

"Yes."

"Oh? Female?"

He considers throwing the cup at Hannibal, decides against it, and answers the question.

"No." He refuses to be embarrassed.

Hannibal is quite certain that he knows who Will is talking about and he swears that the tips of his fingers are aching as he fights the urge to reach them toward Will and pull the other man over to his side. Show him his taste, so close to a secret but so far from anything familiar.

Before Hannibal can finish questioning the phone rings. Jack Crawford is on the other line. Something about leaving his mobile phone at Hannibal's, but the psychiatrist isn't listening as he is far too busy observing Will who is staring strangely at his bronze elk.

He hangs up, assuring Jack that he'll look for the device, not really promising.

The hour is up.