Hannibal moved with all the grace of flowing water, as if he was attuned with every part of his own flesh. There was only one man who could dare make a finger tremble on him; an irregular beat of his heart.

Will Graham sat across the room from Hannibal. He, too, was terribly self-conscious of his movements as if he hated to make noise, to have eyes focused on him. Unfortunately for Will, Hannibal had reserved his attention to him for the afternoon.

"Good evening. Will you take a seat?"