"You've done that before... with... with men", his hoarse voice faltered and wavered with every word.

"I don't discriminate", Hannibal replied nonchalant.

"No, you truly don't."

The first light of dawn crept through the fissures between the curtains, kissed the shadows in an intimate embrace and danced on their bare skin, marked with the traces of the bygone night. Will couldn't turn his eyes away.

"Sometimes I wonder if she was right. Doctor DuMaurier."

"She often is. She is a capable psychiatrist."

"I asked her if you are in love with me."

"Didn't you trust your empathy anymore?"

"In relation to you? No."

"You could have asked me. Or were you scared of the answer?"

"Would I've got an answer?"

"Yes." An amused smile sidled into the left corner of his mouth. "It would not have been a straight one though."

Will chuckled astonished, endorphines still rushing through their arteries and veins. "Don't you want to know what she said?"

"It doesn't matter. Who cares about the substitute when what you crave is right in front of you?"

And as he closed his eyes to the symphony the other man played on his body, Will knew Hannibal would never ask him that very question he himself had directed toward Bedelia. Maybe he was scared of the answer, maybe it just didn't matter to him, maybe he thought he already knew. Maybe he was wrong.

Will: "Is Hannibal in love with me?"

Bedelia: "Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment at the very sight of you? Yes. But do you ache for him?" 3.12