I suppose not. [ Will remarked, addressing the other man's statements out of order. Hands in his pockets, he walked into the room moving towards the corner where the stag had stood earlier. There wasn't anything to sit on so he tucked himself into the corner and leaned back against the cold walls.

He didn't mind the ice at his back, it felt real. ]

Better to toil at futility on your own. Makes a better horsehair shirt that way. [ His words weren't spiteful or even superior, just soft and matter of fact. Will even moved to deflect from them but voluntarily turning the lens back on himself.

After all, Hannibal was dead. What was the point to playing out a story any longer? ]

There was a time I would have taken a swing at you for such a suggestion. But seems ungraceful to punish someone for being smart about it.

So many of the men and women around us purposefully kept their blinders on, wanting only to see what fit their view of each of us; the Ripper and myself. They're the ones who usually got caught in the middle.

[ He does sound genuinely regretful about that.

Then there was a chuckle and the wry tone was back. ]

It's not that difficult. Everybody in this place is a raw nerve, waiting to be pressed. All you have to do is listen and it all comes spilling out, like pus from a lanced wound.