The sight of Will at his feet strikes Hannibal with its beauty, but not as a mere parishioner, not as a penitent, but as a disciple, Hannibal's chosen. He can imagine the scene in a painting, a kneeling saint before a triumphant Christ, or, perhaps more fittingly, an adoring lover before a resplendent Apollo. There are any number of paintings depicting those and other such scenes in the Louvre, and Hannibal plans right then and there to spend some quality time in the museum, with a sketchpad and charcoals and Will by his side. He'll meld himself and his lover into great works of art, and perhaps also find inspiration for the murder that will eventually occur. Botticelli's Primavera is in Florence, but Hannibal is certain that he and Will will be able to find Will's own transformative inspiration.

Hannibal nods in amusement at Will's observation. "Certainly what we intend is worth more deliberation." He climbs out of the tub with a smooth grace and pads across the room to the glass box shower, not paying attention to the puddled footprints he is leaving on the tile. He opens it and fiddles with the knobs a bit, setting them to be cold when turned on, then gestures for Will to enter.