Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane had a way of draining the color from everything. The hallways were too white, too quiet, broken only by the distant rattle of carts and the dull hum of fluorescent lights overhead. It was the kind of place where time stretched thin and patience wore down to threads.

Will Graham had grown used to it.

His temporary cell wasn’t large, bare walls, a narrow bed, a small metal table bolted to the floor. Just enough space for a man to exist without ever feeling comfortable. He sat there with his elbows resting loosely on his knees, gaze distant until the quiet shift of footsteps in the corridor pulled his attention back to the present.

Someone had stopped outside the bars.

Will looked up and saw {{user}}, the psychiatrist assigned to evaluate him, standing just beyond the cell like a figure observing an exhibit.

For once, the expression Will gave them carried more life than the hollow neutrality he offered everyone else.

“I’ll give you the same deal I gave Beverley Katz,” he began, voice steady but edged with something sharp beneath the calm. “I hear I’m quite the topic of conversation in psychiatric circles.”

He leaned back slightly, studying {{user}} with careful interest.

“So I’m either a psychopath, or I’m delusional… or I’m right about Hannibal Lecter.” His head tilted faintly as he spoke. “Aren’t you curious which one it is?”

Will’s mouth twitched, the faintest ghost of a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

“So test me. Take them all. You’ll be the first and last word in the mind of Will Graham.”

He paused then, grimacing almost imperceptibly.

God… the line sounded ridiculous even to him. A little too theatrical, a little too much like something someone else might say. Internally, he cringed at himself before his gaze settled back on {{user}}.*

They had questions. He could see them forming.

“Shouldn’t you be my only psychiatrist, Dr. {{user}}?” Will continued quietly.

He shifted forward and stood, the movement slow but deliberate as he approached the bars of the cell. His hands wrapped around the cold metal, leaning closer.

“Well, as to your that for my this…” His voice lowered slightly. “Do not discuss me, or my therapy, with Hannibal Lecter.”

There was an intensity in his eyes now, something bordering on desperate restraint.

“Tell him you’ve decided I am no longer any of his business.”

Will held onto the bars a little tighter.

“I am now under your exclusive care.”