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Near the end of their hour, Will placed the tickets in the center of Hannibal's desk. Hannibal glanced at them and back to Will before he picked them up.
"Joshua Bell at the Kennedy Center. These are excellent seats, Will."
"The FBI does actually pay me. Pretty well."
"And do you often use their generous compensation to attend the symphony?"
"You like that kind of thing."
"I do. I was not aware of your interest."
Will gave him a hunched, one-shouldered shrug. "I don't not like it. A little culture won't kill me."
"Death is exceedingly unlikely."
Will climbed three steps up the ladder to Hannibal's elevated library and wove one arm between the rungs. He watched Hannibal pace slowly to the window and twitch the curtains aside to look out at the bare trees.
"Perhaps you can assist me," Hannibal said.
"It's unusual for you to need assistance, Dr. Lecter."
"I grant you that it is normally the other way around."
Will's tone had been faintly mocking, and Hannibal matched it. They looked at each other and smiled, though Will's eyes slipped quickly away. He liked looking at Hannibal better when Hannibal wasn't looking at him.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"A friend of mine has given me a gift. Perhaps you will be good enough to misuse your considerable talents on this occasion and tell me what his intentions are."
"What do you think his intentions are?"
"I believe that there are two possibilities. The first is gratitude, in which case I must not accept."
"Nothing wrong with thanking someone."
"Not in the usual course of things, no. But within the context of our relationship, I would find it both inappropriate and distasteful: the suggestion of a debt where none exists."
Will clasped his hands together and leaned forward, a conscious imitation of Hannibal's posture during their conversations. "How well does he know you, this friend of yours?"
Hannibal hesitated, only a fraction of a second, but it was there: a tiny slice of unfilled silence. "I believe he knows me as well as anyone has ever done."
"And how does that make you feel?"
"Uncomfortable." Hannibal paced the room slowly, from one edge to the other. "Vulnerable." He leaned against his desk and looked up at Will. The action bared his throat, which must be deliberate.
The naked honesty sent a languorous heat into Will's limbs that he couldn't pretend was anything other than sexual.
"So don't you think he knows you well enough to know you don't want his gratitude?" Will asked.
"Perhaps. That leaves only one option."
"What's that?"
"A romantic overture."
"It couldn't be a friendship thing? Friends don't take friends to the symphony?"
"Some friends do, I am certain. But this is not a friendly gesture. It is an offering calculated to please. He expects something in return."
"Sounds pretty mercenary."
"Not at all. All human relationships are an exchange of one sort or another. Pleasure for pleasure, pleasure for pain. Love for protection. It is only when the equation becomes unbalanced that problems arise."
"So what balances out those tickets?"
"The pleasure of my company, I should think."
"I dunno. Those are expensive tickets."
Hannibal's face did the thing it did when he found Will's humor a touch too crude but still more amusing than he'd like. The simple fact that Will knew that expression and what it meant, that Hannibal knew that he knew, was astonishing: a miracle of human connection that had eluded Will for most of his life. And Hannibal knew that, too. Will felt almost giddy.
"Then you must tell me what else he desires. I did ask for your advice," Hannibal said.
"What does someone making a romantic overture usually want?"
"Any number of things. Sex. Acceptance. A reinforcement of ego. The shoring up of self-esteem after a previous rejection."
"This has nothing to do with Alana," Will said sharply.
"Does it not? She declines your advances, and here we are."
Will let one corner of his mouth quirk up. "I'm not comfortable with your sudden shift in pronouns, Dr. Lecter."
"Then you shouldn't have driven an hour through the snow to tell me about your relationship troubles, Special Agent Graham."
Will picked at a loose thread on the cuff of his shirt. "Alana thinks I'm too unstable to have a relationship."
"Dr. Bloom thinks you're too unstable to have a relationship with her."
"She's right."
Hannibal crossed the room and stood at the base of the ladder. He gripped it with both hands. Will was trapped. His heart beat more quickly with excitement.
"That's a choice she made for herself. It doesn't reflect on you," Hannibal said.
Will let out a breath of laughter. "The fact that I'm too crazy to date doesn't reflect on me?"
"You are not too crazy to date."
"I knew she'd say no."
Hannibal nodded. "It was a rejection you could afford."
Meaning, quite correctly, that he could not afford one here and now. Will breathed in deep through his nose. He could smell Hannibal, partly the tatters of some light aftershave, but mostly the human heat of him.
"What else?" he asked, voice starting to fray. "What else do people want when they make romantic overtures?" He air-quoted the last two words with a sarcasm he didn't really feel.
"I asked for your advice, not for you to set me a riddle."
"You like riddles. It's why you like--him. Your friend."
"It's not the only reason." Hannibal paused. "Reassurance, then. He wishes to know that someone finds him worth the risk."
Will shook his head and leaned back against the ladder. "That's not what he wants. You should know that. He wants what they all want. He wants to be seen."
"Is that what they all want, Will?"
"Everyone I've ever profiled, yeah."
"Even the Chesapeake Ripper?"
"Is that a joke? Especially the Chesapeake Ripper."
"Do you see him?"
"I try to. I get close."
"Do you see me, Will?"
"As much as anyone ever has. Right?"
"Just so."
Will could feel the warmth of his breath, of his body. Hannibal was looking at Will's eyes. Will was looking at Hannibal's mouth.
"I'll pick you up at six," Will said.
"The performance doesn't begin until eight."
"We're having dinner first. I made reservations."
Hannibal's mouth twitched with amusement. "I can see you've been very thorough."
Will made a face and looked away. "I stuck to the script. This isn't an area where you want me to be original."
"I find you astonishingly original in almost every respect."
"Is that a yes?"
There was another small silence, another second of hesitation, and then Hannibal nodded. "Yes," he said. "It is."