His tone is indeed close to, if not exactly like, that he would use in a therapy session, and there's a good reason for that. He is plumbing the depths of Will's psyche, and he possesses tools to that purpose, those he has been trained to use and those he has developed himself in his many years of study and experience with uncovering the minds of his subjects for manipulation or his own interest and amusement. Will's answers draw a smile from him, and he picks up the wine, considering the bottle for a long moment.

"Almost red enough." He glances up at Will. "I'm sure you're quite aware of the parallels between those two thirsts. You want to pleasure me. There are many things I take pleasure in." His smile is deceptively mild, the sharp hunger in his eyes. "I would enjoy pouring wine down your throat. Pouring it over your body. Watch you become drunk on it, reveling in the excess. And I would love to forego the symbolism of the wine, and give you blood."

The image of Will drinking blood, letting it spill over his lips into rivulets on his chin, on his chest, is quite thrilling. He could imagine licking that blood off his lover's skin, or perhaps Will licking it off Hannibal's chest.

"However, when it comes to being bathed in either blood or wine, I must ask that we delay. If only because it would necessitate remaking the bed."

He picked up the corkscrew and began to twist the spiral into the cork. "Tell me Will," he said without looking up. "Is it ever my blood you imagine yourself drinking?"