Palatial Intimacy

X - The Silkie

April 16, 2030

"I have to bring this back," Will said, gesturing to the duffel bag he'd carried into Hannibal's living room. He hadn't bothered to unzip it yet; he merely dropped it at his feet once he sat down on the couch. Hannibal eyed him.

"Why is that?"

"The FBI has noticed it's missing. I'm especially suspicious because we used the lab one so recently. I can't have anyone find it in my house."

"Is that why you've taken a small break?"

Will didn't want to admit that he'd been avoiding Hannibal, but he certainly was. The fear of being seen entering Hannibal's home was too large to ignore, and the red hot contraband he carried in his duffel bag didn't help those anxieties. He'd opted to stay home, shoving the bag into the overflow room and spending time with Molly to not aroused too much suspicion.

On the other hand, it had been nearly a week since he'd seen the man last, and he had felt every day creep by — not out of desire to see him, but because with each passing day, he knew that Hannibal grew more impatient. If he went long enough, Hannibal would wonder about their deal, and that meant more danger for Will's family. God forbid Hannibal came to see for himself what Will was doing.

His fear for their safety triumphed over his fear of being discovered. So he's finally made the decision to show up.

"..Yeah. I couldn't keep coming back to back—"

"I understand," Hannibal said. He tapped his foot in thought. "Is this too risky for you, coming over here? I may attempt to get back into my practices soon. Perhaps it would be easier there?"

Right. Hannibal was a psychiatrist; he had been for the past decade or so, after retiring from being a surgeon. He hadn't been back since his release, probably for a good reason. Will wouldn't want an accused murderer to be in such a position over his mind, even if he was exonerated. There was always the slim chance.

"You're going to reopen the office?" He couldn't hide the surprise in his voice.

"It will be easier as time goes on. Especially once Chilton is declared guilty." He stood. "Would you like a drink? Anything?"

"I— I'm okay. Thank you." His attitude towards Chilton, an innocent man, being sentenced to life or worse for a crime he was framed for shouldn't have been shocking. This was a murderer, after all. It's not as if he would draw the line at ruining someone's reputation. Still, it was a captivating act of self-absorption. He was using Chilton's suffering for his own gain. For profit.

Before Will could bring up the subject of Chilton again, Hannibal swiveled around to face him. "Oh, that reminds me. I know you had issues with the transport last time. It was a rough journey. I promised you a Valium, and I've got those, but I also have a different approach, if you'd like." He leaned in as if sharing a secret. "Have you ever had psilocybin?"

"Like...mushrooms?"

"Yes."

Will raised his eyebrows. "Can't say I have, no."

"Well, I can give you some of that if you think it would work better. It wouldn't be enough to make you trip — only a few milligrams of dried ones. Just to relax you."

"I— huh. Well, Doctor Lecter, I appreciate the unorthodox approach. But I'd rather not, at least for right now."

"Of course. Your choice." Hannibal waved him off, unbothered. "I am making tea, though. If you'd like to stretch your legs."

Will took him up on it out of curiosity. He wanted to see the man's kitchen with his own eyes in his own body. If it looked the same, he could erase all hesitations. Everything he'd been through would be one hundred percent real. Even he couldn't perfectly replicate an entire kitchen he'd never seen before.