Hannibal does the same with the wine, inhaling the scent first with his eyes closed. It isn't the finest of wines, but it does have some interesting notes. When he takes a sip he nods in approval. Not terrible. Of course, with what they have been talking about, he can taste copper undertones that only exist within his own imagination, an alluring hallucination. He opens his eyes and turns to Will, and their eyes meet in a warm, shared gaze.

Then Will asks the question, and Hannibal smiles, pleased that Will is so in tune with him that he noticed that his thoughts must have been significant, doubtless because he was aroused by them. Hannibal could lie. Not tell Will that the thought of precipitating Will's death, or Will precipitating his, is pleasurable. But it doesn't make sense to withhold the truth. If they are to be partners, and for a very long time, then Will shall find out about these thoughts at some point or another.

"I was thinking about how I would kill you," he says, matter-of-fact. "And how you would kill me." He decides he needn't be specific that he finds such thoughts arousing. Will doubtless already knows.