Even in the dim light and the dry air, Hannibal can see that flush in Will's cheeks and that shiny red in his lips, can smell the heat in his blood, in his loins, underscored even now by the scent of sex that clings to his lover, that clings to them both. Add the expression on his face and Will might as well be naked before him. When Will looks away Hannibal smiles and turns his head as well, settling again into his seat. He is just as tortured as his companion, but enjoying it more deeply. Hannibal is both a sadist and a masochist, enjoying pain and torment from both sides, and this pain, this torment, both his own and that he is inflicting on Will, is sweeter than any other he has experienced. He knows there will come a breaking point, when he cannot stand it any longer lest he lose his mind. but he's confident he can forestall that moment until they reach safety. Moment by moment, his idea of what that will be like grows more and more intense, until he wonders in mild amusement whether either of them will survive, or if they will merely tear each other apart in their need.

The flight attendants come down the aisle with the beverage cart, moving as quietly as possible to not disturb the sleeping passengers (who are in the majority...Hannibal can only see two others who are still awake). When they reach their row the attendant ass quietly if they'd like something to drink. After Will requests ice water Hannibal asks for wine. What he's given is far from the best red he's ever had, but for the moment he's less concerned with taste (which airplane travel tends to dull) and more with its soporific effect (which airplane travel tends to increase).