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Hannibal sat back in his chair, sipping a bit of really delightful old brandy. He pictured Jack's face when he discovered his gift; he'd considered hidden cameras to capture the moment, but had sadly discarded them as impractical, so his imagination would have to suffice. Fortunately, it was very good.

It just about made up for the incredible gaucheness of Jack's behavior at his dinner party. Honestly, there were neater and politer ways to show you suspected a man of murder.

On the theme of which, he couldn't help but hold another moment close in his heart and mind - Will, unrepentant and in control, calm and deadly. No longer tortured by his own nature. Hannibal would have preferred someone else bear the physical scars, but transference was always a danger. And he couldn't deny that the marks on his wrists were a potent reminder of his success.

And now the evidence Hannibal had left, both at that decrepit barn in Virginia and at the scene from whence he'd acquired his latest house-guest, should be more than enough for even the FBI; Will would be released in short order. Imprison the innocent and release him once he was guilty - it added a bit of amusement to the whole thing, really.

He suspected things would get very interesting very quickly.

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