[ Will wishes for a moment that he had the capacity any longer to mourn the old Will, but he doesn't. He finds himself drawing up empty and feeling nothing but a small bittersweetness at the memory of old. He ends up nodding dimly, lifting his coffee to take a sip as Hannibal plates their food and murmuring quietly -- ]

Will Graham is dead. Long live Will Graham.

[ And there's nothing in him to realize what those words might mean to Hannibal. Instead, it's the end of the topic for now and Will follows Hannibal obediently towards the dining room, feeling his stomach finally feel hunger in the process. He's happy now, to eat with Hannibal and take their meals together in quiet companionship. It feels nice. Deserved, even. ]

-- Ah, mostly keep to myself. I'd rather not look if I can help it, even if it might assist them. It's not... it's not really worth it, is it?

[ That question is even laced with a hinge of insecurity, tone so very close to their old dynamic. Will asking for advice, pleading with Hannibal to provide him some sort of stability while his life crumbled to pieces around him. He doesn't ask things like that anymore -- wouldn't even if he wanted to, but unconsciously he finds himself asking and wondering if neutrality is the right decision. If Hannibal thinks it's the right decision. ]