Hannibal ponders how this moment with Will illuminates that it is an intimate thing to entrust someone with one's life, but much more so to entrust someone with one's death. While he has a well-defined sense of self-preservation, one that has kept him alive and free all these years, he is also of the firm belief that death can be profoudly beautiful, even his own. Before Will, he has never known someone he would trust so completely with such a precious responsibility as the aesthetics of his own conclusion. He may yet be the one to end Will's life, or perhaps they will end each other at the same time. Regardless, Hannibal has full faith that his lover would give him the perfect end, should that be how fate dictates they be parted.

Hannibal rises as bidden, and nods, stepping to the bed. He moves the bag with their purchases to the night table and takes out the lubricant, discarding the packaging and making sure it is ready for when it is needed. Then he turns and raises his eyebrows, questioning and playful.

"How do you wish me to position myself?"