[Hannibal has no need for the veil anymore as he once did. His dinner allowed him that freedom. he expects a retaliation at some point, but the planet is currently taken over by another mission that will surely delay it.

Will's posture doesn't go unnoticed, nor does the blood on his clothing. he knows those stains, the spatter of Dolarhyde's flesh that they shared. some relief is there, hidden still beneath the sharp edges and expressions only as the light plays on his features. yes; the veil is gone, only to reveal the creature beneath it. the two of them will always be in an unusual tense game, however or wherever they stand.

only a singular step forward to close some distance between them, one hand into his own pants pocket - a reflection. he smiles, humor behind his eyes.]

If this were Hell, then I would be glad to have you with me. [the shared, inexplicable gaping maw of darkness that envelopes them. Will had changed him, but Hannibal had reached inside of Will and curled his fingers around the potential that he saw and tugged. his tone changes, too - a light fondness.] But it is not. We haven't met our end, not yet.

['we', because of Dolarhyde, because of Hannibal, because of Will.]