...Will...
''It might be said of psychoanalysis that if you give it your little finger it will soon have your whole hand.'' Sigmund Freud

If Hannibal was upset about his getting earlier, he didn't show. Instead he invited Will to sit and talk, as always. For more than one hour, they talked, their pauses covered by a comfortable silence. Will brought up his earlier encounter that day.

''Another one of those doctors wanting me as a lab rat, it's annoying'' He complained thinking about that day's experience ''I really don't appreciate their 'professional' curiosity, wait... You probably have it too, don't you?'' He actually wanted Hannibal to be curious about him, but not in that way.

''I find it interesting'' Doctor answered neutrally.

''That's a fine phrase for a psychiatrist, could another word be anymore cliché?''

''Intriguing, compelling, fascinating.'' The words hung in silence until Hannibal saved him the effort to formulate something to say. ''You don't need to analyze, you simply understand it. Of course it comes with a price, but you'll learn to deal with it''

''I don't think I'm dealing with it. I can't sleep ultimately, it's those f*cking dreams'' He said that last part under his breath.

''Dreams?''

Will's head snapped up perceiving what he had said. Ops.

''Dreams, you know''

''No, I don't. Violence? Death? Sex.''

Did he imagine it or Hannibal had just affirmed the word sex? Now he was really going crazy, better relate to corpses than imagine voices affirming to sex.

''All of those together'' He said partly ashamed, if it wasn't for the inhibited pleasure he had from those dreams, he would be fully ashamed, of course.

''That's nothing to be ashamed of, William. Everybody has a standard deviation''

''I have an exotic standard deviation''

''So do I''

''But there are the exotic ones and the normal exotic ones''

''What defines normal? Everybody has its share of oddness, the normal is defined by the average. Have you ever seen anyone fully defined by the average? If yes, that person must be very predictable and therefore, boring ''

''I don't think predictable is boring'' Will frowned, he wished he had a predictable life instead of this mental uncertainty, badly.

''That's because you're too focused on an ideal of perfect bright happiness, Will. But what is peace without a fight?''

''I just wish I could be another sheep at the middle of a herd'' He sighed.

''Not a sheep, I eat sheep. You're above that'' Hannibal showed his teeth in a smile. There was a private joke in that remark but Will couldn't possibly understand it, not yet.

''OK, that was a terrible analogy''

...Hannibal...
"One drop of wine is enough to redden a whole glass of water'' Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame

They finished the meal and when Will offered to help him with the dishes, Hannibal surprised both of them by letting him dry them, it was an ordinary chore that bore a delightful familiarity. He willingly accepted to risk of having Will breaking something of his expensive tableware - after all, the man was very clumsy - but it was worthy to see him working in one of Hannibal's favorite places: The Kitchen. One of the other places was The Bedroom, but that's for another night.

The Kitchen was modern and expensive, as most of his things were, but practical. Everything was placed within a logic that seemed to be oblivious to Will who, as predicted, managed to let two glasses fall off a gigantic table. Will's reflexes were actually good - Hannibal appreciated that- he took one of the glasses just before it fell but there was no salvation for the other.

He stood there before William, watching the man look fixedly to the broken glass and wondered what he was thinking. Probably comparing himself with the impossible-to-repair pieces, as melodramatic as Will was, or maybe Hannibal was too cold. Anyway, it didn't matter.

What mattered was that his prey was knelled on the ground before him shredding itself to pieces - emotional and physical - and Hannibal couldn't afford that, he liked to shred in pieces himself, preferentially with a well sharped kitchen knife.

''Is everything alright?'' He asked while helping the investigator up.

''Yes'' Meaning No. Hannibal ignored this, in the end of what he had planned, Will would be fine under his supervision.

''Come, I have a first-aid kit, there are some cuts here and...''

''It's ok, really, I'm sorry about...''

''William, it is very rude to interrupt someone in the middle of a sentence. Now, what kind of host would I be if I didn't help my guests?''

''You just interrupted me'' Will mumbled but followed him when yanked forward by the hand.

For a brief moment, Hannibal had a glimpse on how he himself was cold, inside and out, Will's hand burned through his, like it was more than a physical connection. But that couldn't be.

''Sit here, I'll be right back''

His first-aid kit stood with the other ones, arranged with organization. Anybody that looked at it would think it was just a lot of metal boxes, but they were to Hannibal what the dogs were to Will: an easy grip onto sanity. Some were filled with plastic overalls, others with different types of knives and sharpeners. He had used each set of them at least one time to variated chores, he thought smiling.

Every time he got out of some fancy store, a new set was purchased, even when online, something was ordered! It was a relapse he could afford, of course, but it still bothered him to lose control so he had been ''clean'' for almost two weeks already and that was a record. Just thinking of a Wusthof knife... He shook his head as if to clear the thoughts and took the medication kit.

He opened the box and sat next to his patient, taking out his tweezers, band-aids and anti-septic, enjoying how Will looked nervously to the tweezers. He took them and started to make for Will's face, which recoiled with the rest of his body to the opposite side of the sofa.

''Really?'' Hannibal asked frowning, relishing everything, and patted the place beside him.

Will sighed but obeyed anyway, not noticing how common that habit was becoming when around the doctor.

''Close your eyes, it will be easier, there are some pieces of glass inside the cut''

Will obeyed, again.

''That's better. Cut wounds are particularly prone to infection and it may not fully heal if there's anything inside it'' He said while picking one little fragment.

A drop of blood fell from the cut and Hannibal collected it with one finger, wishing nothing but to taste it. He slowly put it on his tongue, reveling on the suggestive tang of metal and continued to clean the slash as if nothing had happened, placing a band-aid on it.

''It's all good now, try not to break another glass close to your face'' he said barely containing his smile.

''Don't make fun of me''

''Isn't that what friends do?''

''Are we friends?'' he asked dubiously.

''You're right, we're much more'' Hannibal said getting up, closing the kit and taking the tweezers to the wash basin.

''More?''

''Of course. You are my patient, guest and friend'' Hannibal could almost taste Will's disappointment to his response for what was 'more' and smiled again. ''Come, there is something I want to show you''