Will's touch makes Hannibal's heart beat all the faster, and his voice makes Hannibal take a long breath, his body's heat rising. He wonders if there will ever come a time when this relationship, this love, isn't so strange, so surprising. Somehow he doubts it. And perhaps that is why he can truly love Will with a depth and breadth he's never before experienced; their relationship will always be fresh, new, different. He takes a slow swallow of his wine, then puts the glass aside. He half-turns toward Will, and lifts a hand to caress his cheek.

"It is possible to survive with only one kidney," he muses. "And the French have many fine dishes that call for it."

He wonders how Will will react. In horror? In curiosity? In submission? In arousal?