Will can feel Hannibal's gaze on him, though he's not entirely sure how. Perhaps it's a slight change in the cadence of Hannibal's breathing, or just an unexplainable instinct, but when Will opens his eyes he is indeed met with Hannibal's gaze.
Hannibal is assessing, though Will doesn't feel scrutinized. It's more like Hannibal is checking in on him, not on his physical well being so much as his mental one. Will's tired, and a lot has happened in a very short period of time, so he's not very surprised that his mind is avoiding taking stock in this moment. At the start of this evening, Will had still been very sure that he was going to help Jack Crawford capture (or murder) the man sitting beside him now. Since then he'd thrown away the very notion in the most complete way he could, not only changing his mind about assisting Jack but giving himself up to Hannibal entirely, mind, body, and soul.
He felt more calm about what he was doing than he suspected he should. He wasn't naive enough to think that they'd go to Europe and live together like newly weds, seeing the sights and sampling the food, sleeping late and making love all night. Despite Hannibal's tenderness toward Will, he was still a violent serial killer, and part of the pact Will was making here with him meant that, sooner or later, Hannibal would kill again, but this time with Will by his side. The part of Will that he'd tried to force to stay dormant, the thing inside him that caused him to enjoy taking lives, was fully uncovered now, like an exposed nerve. And while he knew he could no longer deny the drive, the ingrained morality he'd clung to for so long hadn't just evaporated. The two desires were diametrically opposed, taking life and preserving it, and there would come a time when Will would have to renounce the latter and fully accept the former.
For now, he put that future struggle out of his mind. Their gazes still locked, Will again is overcome with the desire for physical contact. He takes a deep, quiet breath as he looks down at Hannibal's mouth, exhaling long and slow before he licks his own lips. It's silent communication, and it's not particularly subtle, but the man at the end of the row is already asleep and no one else can see them well enough to notice.
no subject
Hannibal is assessing, though Will doesn't feel scrutinized. It's more like Hannibal is checking in on him, not on his physical well being so much as his mental one. Will's tired, and a lot has happened in a very short period of time, so he's not very surprised that his mind is avoiding taking stock in this moment. At the start of this evening, Will had still been very sure that he was going to help Jack Crawford capture (or murder) the man sitting beside him now. Since then he'd thrown away the very notion in the most complete way he could, not only changing his mind about assisting Jack but giving himself up to Hannibal entirely, mind, body, and soul.
He felt more calm about what he was doing than he suspected he should. He wasn't naive enough to think that they'd go to Europe and live together like newly weds, seeing the sights and sampling the food, sleeping late and making love all night. Despite Hannibal's tenderness toward Will, he was still a violent serial killer, and part of the pact Will was making here with him meant that, sooner or later, Hannibal would kill again, but this time with Will by his side. The part of Will that he'd tried to force to stay dormant, the thing inside him that caused him to enjoy taking lives, was fully uncovered now, like an exposed nerve. And while he knew he could no longer deny the drive, the ingrained morality he'd clung to for so long hadn't just evaporated. The two desires were diametrically opposed, taking life and preserving it, and there would come a time when Will would have to renounce the latter and fully accept the former.
For now, he put that future struggle out of his mind. Their gazes still locked, Will again is overcome with the desire for physical contact. He takes a deep, quiet breath as he looks down at Hannibal's mouth, exhaling long and slow before he licks his own lips. It's silent communication, and it's not particularly subtle, but the man at the end of the row is already asleep and no one else can see them well enough to notice.