There's a new wall between them now, a guardedness in Hannibal that's real, one that Will can feel as well as he can hear in Hannibal's voice, see in Hannibal's eyes. It's not difficult to figure out what's put it there, not with the tone their conversation has taken. Hannibal does know what Will's been planning, or at least how and where those plans were supposed to culminate. Considering their history, the easy way they'd both sent killers after each other in the past, Will is even less sure that Hannibal doesn't have a notion to take Will somewhere remote where he can take him apart, piece by piece, a fitting repayment for his treachery.
Hannibal's eyes are cold now, detached, trying to read Will, to gauge how much of what Will's said in the last few weeks that was true and how much was part of the ruse he'd constructed to gain Hannibal's trust. Will wonders if coming clean would be the right course of action, if it would forestall any notions Hannibal might have about killing him, or it the path Will's agreed to go on now only has one ending, no mater what he says or does.
If Will's honest, he's still not entirely sure how he feels about Hannibal, about what he knows about him now. What he does know, however, is that Hannibal was willing to let Will see him, what he truly is. Will knows Hannibal was moved to do so under false pretenses, but a lot of the things Will told him weren't complete fabrications. He had killed Randall Tier, and he had enjoyed the act. The admissions he'd made about his feelings in Hannibal's office had been genuine, everything he'd said about how it felt to kill, the intimacy of using his hands to do it, the thrill he felt at the idea of doing the same to Hannibal, none of those things were lies.
He doesn't want to kill Hannibal now. It's a terrifying realization, but it's true; he wants exactly what Hannibal is offering, to leave this place together, to disappear into the wind and leave their lives here behind. He has no idea what a future with Hannibal might hold, and his chances of survival are marginal at best, but, sitting across the table from Hannibal now, even under the weight of Hannibal's icy, emotionless gaze, Will knows it's a chance he desperately wants to take.
Will's appetite is gone entirely, his stomach churning with a multitude of emotions, but he takes another bite of his dinner anyway, chewing slowly and swallowing evenly. "Will we have time to feed my dogs, as you suggested?" he asks carefully, wiping his mouth on his napkin. In saying it, he's testing the waters, seeing if Hannibal meant what he said or if he had only been administering a test of his own.
no subject
Hannibal's eyes are cold now, detached, trying to read Will, to gauge how much of what Will's said in the last few weeks that was true and how much was part of the ruse he'd constructed to gain Hannibal's trust. Will wonders if coming clean would be the right course of action, if it would forestall any notions Hannibal might have about killing him, or it the path Will's agreed to go on now only has one ending, no mater what he says or does.
If Will's honest, he's still not entirely sure how he feels about Hannibal, about what he knows about him now. What he does know, however, is that Hannibal was willing to let Will see him, what he truly is. Will knows Hannibal was moved to do so under false pretenses, but a lot of the things Will told him weren't complete fabrications. He had killed Randall Tier, and he had enjoyed the act. The admissions he'd made about his feelings in Hannibal's office had been genuine, everything he'd said about how it felt to kill, the intimacy of using his hands to do it, the thrill he felt at the idea of doing the same to Hannibal, none of those things were lies.
He doesn't want to kill Hannibal now. It's a terrifying realization, but it's true; he wants exactly what Hannibal is offering, to leave this place together, to disappear into the wind and leave their lives here behind. He has no idea what a future with Hannibal might hold, and his chances of survival are marginal at best, but, sitting across the table from Hannibal now, even under the weight of Hannibal's icy, emotionless gaze, Will knows it's a chance he desperately wants to take.
Will's appetite is gone entirely, his stomach churning with a multitude of emotions, but he takes another bite of his dinner anyway, chewing slowly and swallowing evenly. "Will we have time to feed my dogs, as you suggested?" he asks carefully, wiping his mouth on his napkin. In saying it, he's testing the waters, seeing if Hannibal meant what he said or if he had only been administering a test of his own.