Euston Station was bustling with life, a London hub harbouring a diversity of the human condition comparable to an Amazonian rainforest. Just as interesting, equally as deadly.

Will exited the Underground through the barriers to climb the escalator, grabbing a Metro newspaper as he strolled past an impossibly tall stack of the publication leaning precariously against a wall. He stepped outside the station and sat for a moment on a bench in the late morning, crisp Spring sunshine, slightly apart from the nicotine-infused commuters glued to their smartphones, oblivious to the world around them. So much the better for Will Graham.

He searched the pages until he found what he was looking for: The Good Deed Feed & The Rush Hour Crush. Will smiled at the thought of Hannibal sporting a grimace while he posted his message to these, what he would consider "crass" sections. When the mighty fall, they fall hard, but at least he had a soft landing. The Devil's luck indeed, thought Will with a rueful smile.

Samsung phone found at 10.13pm on February 16th on Central Line tube line. Left at lost and found opposite Platform 18, Euston Station.

And in the other section:

To the gentleman with the unruly dark curls and impossible blue eyes. You and you alone hold the combination to The Vault wherein lies my heart…

Will bit back a chuckle as he folded the paper and headed back into the station, tossing it back on a stack of similarly discarded as he entered the building.

"How can I help you, Sir?" It took Will seconds to note the tired, strain of voice, the eyes dulled by life, no wife, no children. Will wondered how long it would be before the man finally gave up on the mundanity of his existence as he so evidently accepted it had given up on him.

"I believe my phone was left here? Two days ago it would have been. A Samsung smartphone."

"If you'll give me a moment, I'll check the log, Sir." He turned to his computer terminal and punched a few keys, possibly a little harder than necessary. "One moment…" as he turned and disappeared into the back of the room.

Will waited. Zoning out of himself for a moment and bleeding himself into the passing crowd, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He was being watched. He turned around but just as quickly as the feeling had hit him it was gone like a passing breeze, warm and invisible.

"Sir?" He returned his attention to the attendant who was switching on the phone. "If you wouldn't mind punching in the security code so I can confirm that you are indeed the owner?"

"Of course…"

Will didn't hesitate: 1-0-1-3.

"Thank you, Sir. Just sign here and it's all yours." With an ineligible flourish of a pen and a nod of thanks, Will pocketed the phone and headed for the exit. He forewent public transport. A walk back to his hotel would do him good. And he had a couple of hours to kill before his rendezvous with MI6. He checked his other phone and its last message:

4.55pm, British Library, Second Floor, The Alice in Wonderland Exhibition.

Just as he was returning it to his inside pocket, he felt the recently retrieved phone vibrate.

You look exceptionally well. H.

Will instinctively stopped in his tracks and looked around. The throng of bodies was thickening around him now, as he approached Kings Cross. He smiled. He knew he didn't stand a chance of identifying Hannibal. God only knows how much his appearance had changed in their months apart. Will himself had lost his beard but retained his glasses, a look he had quickly learned people found incredibly disarming and Will had little compunction using to his advantage when the situation required. This game of cat-and-mouse was something Hannibal enjoyed and Will had been happy to indulge, Hannibal using the exercise to hone his ability to hide in plain sight in the months before he left the US. He knew if he could evade the senses of Will, revealed and bare as he now was to the empath, he had all but become a ghost, seen only when he wished to be seen.

The predator, cryptically camouflaged, wandering comfortably amongst his prey.

And in this moment, he only wished to see, and see he did. He had visited him often in the rooms of his mind palace, but Will Graham in the flesh was so much more gratifying. Were it possible that the man could be more beautiful than when they had parted company? Evidently so, as he watched Will glance down at the phone and come to a standstill to look around. Seconds only passed as he watched Will accept his action as an exercise in futility and moved on towards his hotel. Hannibal had no idea why Will had detoured to London though he was fairly sure it had something to do with Jack Crawford. Deviations in behaviour where Will was concerned usually involved the FBI on some level.

Hannibal knew he wouldn't have to wait long to uncover the mystery.