In general, Will finds bathing to be perfunctory. Unless he's particularly sore, his showers are quick, just a means to clean himself, nothing he indulges in. He can't remember the last time he had a bath, but he suspects he was a fairly young child at the time. Before this moment he can't recall ever wanting to take one as an adult, but the idea of laying back in the hot water, feeling it ease his abused muscles, sharing the space with Hannibal, he can't imagine choosing a shower instead.

"Bath," he replies, his eyes moving over Hannibal's face, memorizing the creases and lines, the way it shifts. "In this instance, at least," he adds. "Assuming I'll be sharing it with you."