Hannibal follows Will into the bedroom, watching the flex of his lover's muscles as he walks, the sway of his hips. As Will dresses, Hannibal does likewise, his motions just as swift as Will's yet with somewhat different results, his clothing neatly folded and practically wrinkle-free coming straight out of his suitcase, his practiced hands moving by muscle memory to button up then impeccably straighten the cuffs and collar. While his body all but dresses itself, his mind sees the roles they are putting on, the masks they will present to the world. He will be Giacomo Reyer, of course, an older academic introducing his younger colleague to Paris, to its art and food and people, and to other pleasures as well. But there is another mask, a deeper one, the suit that Hannibal wears beneath all of his many others, that hides who and what he truly is. And as Will prepares to step out into the world, Hannibal wonders about the state of his man-suit. Is it even needed yet? Will was still in the process of coming into his own, of metamorphosing into the beautiful rough beast that lurked in his core. As Hannibal helps him to realize himself more fully, he shall also have to assist in the construction of his man-suit, stitch by stitch.

Hannibal forgoes the tie, instead leaving the top button of his shirt undone, affecting a mix of formal and casual that is standard in Europe. Will's clothes are quite American, but as that is the role he is playing, Hannibal isn't concerned. Perhaps the more literal "suit" can be eventually tailored as well.

Once dressed, Hannibal goes out into the entryway to retrieve their shoes, scooping up the rest of their clothing while he's at it. He returns to the bedroom and holds out Will's shoes to him.