7

Will sat at the sofa and held a glass of wine. He seemed to have something on his mind. When he was thinking, his expression was so dignified. He looked like he had too many things to worry about. And that was true. He had something really important and thorny to worry about—Hannibal.

He knew he couldn't keep Hannibal forever. Actually, Hannibal was a wanted fugitive and he worked for FBI. He should have turned Hannibal in the moment he saw Hannibal at the cemetery. But he did not do that. He had a private agenda. He knew he couldn't let Hannibal get away for the murder, but he also didn't want the federal agents to interrogate him. Hannibal was so unique and those people wouldn't understand him. He didn't mean that Hannibal had reason to kill people. Hannibal is guilty, and nobody could deny that. But if Hannibal had to be judged, he must be judged by someone can understood him.

Will knew that, and he always knew that one day, maybe tomorrow, he would hand Hannibal to the FBI. And they might kill him or put him in a mental hospital. And if they did that, he will go to the hospital to visit Hannibal. It was the way things should go down. The good guys defeated bad guys. But now, he could hardly tell what is right and wrong.

He looked at Hannibal's back and got lost in thought. It was so complicated. Everything became complicated once Hannibal showed up in his life. There was no simple right and wrong now, as he sat here and looked at Hannibal. He realized none of it mattered. When the moment came, there must be some way to solve this problem. And right now, there was only one thing to worry about.

"So, when do we have dinner?" asked Will.