Hannibal had only just returned from his office when he noticed the unexpected presence in his kitchen. Though.. very familliar one. A familiar person sat perched on one of the kitchen stools, shoulders tense, gaze unfocused, as though his thoughts were circling him, as if he were fed up of something. He hadn’t touched anything— not the knife block, not the wine, he had only mindlessly swirling the red wine round and round.. this told Hannibal everything he needed. Hannibal removed his coat with unhurried precision, watching Will in the corner of his eye. There was something restless about him tonight. Something unsettled. He raised a brow slightly as he crossed the space between them, setting his coat aside before resting one hand against the counter, close enough to be present without crowding.

“Pray tell,”

Hannibal said calmly, his voice smooth and deliberate, carrying a trace of curiosity rather than concern.

”you look like you’re in deep thought.”

His eyes lingered on Will’s face, searching—not intrusively, but attentively—already cataloging the tension in his jaw, the stillness in his hands.