"One would think it was mandatory for the FBI to run a spellcheck before turning in their work."

The observation made Will glance up from his grading with an incredulous look, Hannibal admiring how firelight looked caressing the empath's face. He and Will were currently sitting on the floor in front of his parlor's fireplace, papers and tests with written exams strewed all around them like gentle slopes of papery snow. They were drinking expensive champagne, and eating Hannibal's version of what Will laughingly called finger food, which was a truly odd yet funny thing to say to a cannibal. The feast laid out before them consisted of Oysters Rockefeller, spice toasted almonds, a variety of grapes, olives stuffed with various cheeses, Brie cheese with a fig compote, and homemade crostinis.

"One would think. I told you it wouldn't be fun." Will said as he finished grading one exam with practiced ease to reach for another as easily as if it were breathing.

"I wasn't expecting fun. I would have settled for intelligible though, or at the very least, legible." Hannibal shook his own variation in hand, wishing it was the actual author of this travesty instead. "This one has very little concept of captor bonding, and has gone off a totally unrelated tangent for two whole pages. This other one has no concept about the fundamentals of punctuation. This one, this one I have no idea what they were going for, which is somewhat impressive, all thing considered."

"Welcome to the wonderful world of teaching." Will cackled softly into his flute's bubbles. Hannibal wondered if Will knew just how much of himself he gave away in these rare bright moments between them. Will's own brand of humor was just as twisted as Hannibal's own. Same tree really, just a different branch of it. "Aren't you used to deciphering chicken scratch, Doctor Lecter?"

"I'll have you know that my penmanship is immaculate." Hannibal said as he snagged a piece of paper to write 'what do you think?'. He ignored Will using his title, tried to not feel too irked by it. "And I kept my attending residents to a very high standard."

"I think it's impressive that your handwriting is just as pretentious as you are. Do you always write in Copperplate?" Will deadpanned, giving him a very unimpressed look back. It got a real smile from Hannibal, one he allowed to show the other. Will was truly a delight to interact with.

"It's better than what I'm being subjected to here. You're far more patient than I previously thought." Hannibal said, mostly holding back a sigh at the written-in answers. Some of the handwriting had more in common with ancient cuneiform than English. He set it aside for the time being, preparing some nibbles for Will and himself.

"Don't put a shine on my halo just yet. I leave very cranky notes in the margins." Will said, dutifully accepting a crostini with the perfect amount of Brie and fruit compote spread upon it. He ate it at first on automatic, but then gave pause when he registered the flavors hitting his tongue. It made Will take his time the next few bites in a most gratifying manner to Hannibal.

"Excellent. I've done the same." Hannibal said, offering his already completed stack to Will for him to peruse through as he ate the continuous little plates prepared for him by his host. Hannibal was pleased to find out that Will could read and absorb the written word as quickly as he could. Between the two of them, they were making quick work of Will's teaching duties.

"Verbal evisceration. You are having fun." Will accused with a smirk, poking Hannibal in the side with his pen, or at least, tried to. The profiler found his hand caught and tasted, Hannibal pressing his lips to back of it, biting down playfully on the palm's meat.

"If this is the best the FBI has to offer, I needn't worry about much." Hannibal said, following the hand to its source as the limb retreated. Its owner was blushing from the pursuit, and trying not to show it.

"Says one of the most famous serial killers who almost got caught by a trainee. Not even a full agent, a wet-behind-ears trainee." Will countered easily enough in a bone dry tone. Hannibal chose to ignore it for something far better as he covered Will's body with his own, attempting to plunder more affection. For the most part, he was waved off. "You're worse than a cat!"

"Meaning that I am cunning, graceful, and mysterious?"

"I was going to go with clingy, attention seeking, and annoying." Will snorted as he retreated for now. "We still have a whole lot more to get through so behave."

"You wound me." Hannibal said, placing a hand to his chest in mock emphasis.

"I clearly forgot overdramatic in my assessment."

"I simply enjoy the zest of life." Hannibal sniffed, primly taking a sip.

"And petty."

"Now you're just trying to be mean."

"Trying?" Will arched a brow at him.

"This one thinks I'm part of the clergy," Hannibal left off, making Will snort in amusement for various reasons. "A Catholic priest to be exact."

"What's their basis for that?" Will asked as he furrowed his brow in thought.

"They're building it upon the tongue I placed in the Bible as a bookmark. They believed my sounders of three represent the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. They propose that I am picking my victims through their confessionals." Hannibal summarized.

"Mmm...that's actually not half bad. I've read worse. You've been all over the list." Will reached for it, snagging the paper from Hannibal to look over with a jaded eye.

"What was I a CEO of?"

"Something medical, having to do with big pharma. You were a jet setting, international killer who would come to the states for business."

"That lacks an appalling amount of imagination."

"Indeed. You'd stay for the pleasure of killing your sounder, and then fly back to Europe to start the cycle all over again. They attributed that to why you've never been caught." Will said with a twinkle in his eyes as he added, "He also thought you were Danish."

That gave Hannibal reason to pause. "Why would he think that?"

"I have no idea. The paper was so badly written that I didn't have it in me to find out. I failed him if you were wondering." Will shrugged.

"I would hope so." Hannibal said, "I'm a war correspondent in this one. I kill after I've been on a particularly rough assignment. My reasoning is rather trite, having to do with the horrors of war. It's all rather dull, don't you think?"

"I can't tell anymore if they're brown nosing, or actually think they'll be right about you through sheer dumb luck." Will sighed as he finished grading one to reach for another.

"In this one, I am a third year medical student that succumbed to the pressures of the field, and dropped out. I now work in retail at a place called Walmart, and my own shortcomings, of which there are many, are what motivates me to kill." Hannibal said, "Walmart? That sounds abysmal."

"You don't know what a Walmart is?" Will bodily paused to assess his companion. Hannibal only deigned to stare back at Will in answer.

"Of course you don't. Well, for never having been in one, you nailed it. They are terrible places," Will looked very amused about something. Hannibal made a mental note to google Walmart. "But you can get 12 pairs of socks for under 10."

"Not even high end retail then?"

"You can get 12 packs of instant ramen for around 4 there. What do you think?"

"That's appalling."

"So what you're saying is that I should give them an A?" Will grinned cheekily. Some stray thought drained the empath of his good humor. "Have you killed elsewhere?"

"What do you think?" Hannibal challenged.

"I believe you have."

"Then why ask me boring questions you already know the answers to?" Hannibal gently mocked, though he knew Will was attempting to create a base line by doing so. He was building up to something else. Hannibal was enthralled to find out what that something was.

"What would you consider an interesting question? A better question?"

"Don't waste time asking me. Tell me. Tell me who I have been before this. Who was I in my youth?" Hannibal asked, throwing down the metaphorical gauntlet.

"You'll have to be quiet for this next part." Will told him as the empath closed his eyes. In that instant, Hannibal decided that he was going to render Will as the Oracle of Delphi. It would have to be oil on canvas.

"Il Mostro. Il Mostro di Firenze. Your design back then was the Monster of Florence." Will intoned without hesitation, opening his eyes to pin Hannibal with an unidentifiable look.

"What gave me away?" Hannibal asked as he schooled his face and body not to emit any trace of the pure joy he was feeling.

"The Primavera painting by Botticelli. That and you have a very certain style." Will spoke evenly as if still in a daze. "You also have a pension for a very certain story trope."

"And what trope would that be?"

"Of gods elevating mortals to divinity. 'Leda and the Swan' is what made the jump for me. You enjoy turning people into killers."

"Where did you go before, and where are you lingering now? Do you have a mind palace?"

"The method of Loci? Nah, not one much for palaces." Will continued to impress him, not missing a beat. "I have rooms for my work, but mostly, I just stay in my stream. It's all space, woods, and open sky up in here." He said, tapping the side of his temple. "It took longer than usual because I haven't been to the international section in a long while."

"Impressive."

"If I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly, no bullshit?"

"I promise nothing, but I'll do my best." Hannibal smiled at the eye roll shot his way.

"What happened to you? Who made you what you are?"

"In the argument of nature vs nurture, I have to admit that I was born this way. I made me. Certain life events have changed the direction of that metamorphosis from time to time, but my focused navigation has remained the constant factor." Hannibal wondered where this was going, if Will would be satisfied with that answer. He hoped not.

What are you smiling about?" Will asked, looking suspicious.

"I find it interesting that you're looking for a scapegoat for my actions. You like me so you are trying to discover the name of the devil who put me on this path." Hannibal chuckled, "What are you planning to do if you find out? Hunt them down with extreme prejudice?"

"No, not at all." Will said easily enough, looking amused about something. Hannibal felt the growing suspicion that he had missed something important in the last few seconds.

"Then what?" Hannibal finally asked. He was mentally reviewing their exchange to find nothing noteworthy, and yet, this felt like a trap of some sort.

"I was actually more curious about how Mischa fits into all this." Will said, emotionally kicking the bucket out from under Hannibal's feet. The noose of this conversation jerked tight around his neck, the one he hadn't noticed Will slip over his head. It stole his breath, perfectly crafted rebuttals snuffed out of existence.

"It would appear that I have been talking in my sleep again." Hannibal said after a long held moment. He was doing everything he could not to react in front of the most perceptive person he'd ever met. Hannibal realized he was experiencing the flip side of being so seen. Will witnessed all the good, but he also experienced the bad and the ugly sides of self.

"Among other things." Will added, but not unkindly as he flayed open Hannibal's person suit at its seams. "Your form of cannibalism isn't about elevation or respect. It's a public shaming. You eat people who disgust you. You kill people you've deemed unworthy of life."

"And..." Hannibal prompted, taking this journey whether they were ready or not.

"You say that you made yourself. I don't think that's entirely true." Will said, looking directly at him. Hannibal could feel those unflinching blue eyes peeling back layers of his armor, tattering his meticulous persona. "Do you feel like a bug being pinned and put on display yet?"

"Apt analogy."

"We can stop if you want." Will said as an infuriating little smile played over his lips. He had gotten what he wanted, whatever that was, from Hannibal. It was as intriguing as it was infuriating.

"It is an unexpected sensation, but one that is not unwelcome. I remain firmly in awe of your gifts." Hannibal recovered, willfully pressing salt into that wound. He wanted to see how far this could go. "Who do you think Mischa was to me?"

"Someone important to you."

"Don't start to generalize now. You're better than that."

"She was your baby sister."

"And?"

"She was also the first person you consumed," Will was tense. He was watching him. "Though not willingly."

"She was fed to me by the soldiers who killed my parents." Hannibal admitted freely to see its effect on Will. The empath was clearly torn between keeping him in sight as a villain and not a victim.

"How does that make you feel?" Will asked.

"How does it make you feel?" Hannibal echoed back. He'd had decades to deal with this pain that never needed, this loss that would always be felt down to the marrow of his bones. It was fresh hell for Will though. That much was obvious as Hannibal remained open about his grief, the wound in his mind that would never fully heal. He watched as it affected Will, the empath dropping his eyes to the floor to study the wood grain instead of him,

"Complicated. I feel complicated." Will finally admitted, but there was a hint of hesitation in his voice.

"You have something else to ask. Say it."

"Was she avenged?"

"My dear Will, what have I told you about asking questions you already know the answer to."