"Um, I didn't want you to be ambushed."

Considering the dark haired woman before him who looked apologetic, Will knew Alana didn't mean it in the literal sense so he soothed his urge to react violently down, like it were a dog growling. He reasoned it had to be something more plausible than an arrest or a physical assault, but at least it was happening in his own domain, his classroom where he was the focal point and master of his surroundings.

"This is an ambush?" Will asked warily, letting his gaze shift and follow the departing backs of his students. No threats there, only followers. Sheep learning from a wolf how to catch other predators. The beauty of the entire scenario was that he could keep them blind to the kind he was.

"Ambush is later when Jack arrives. Consider yourself ambushed." Alana said quickly just as the man himself arrived looking like he always did, as if he were on a personal mission from God.

Ah. How tiring. Will allowed his stress to show knowing that Alana and Jack would assume it was something else entirely, which was the point. Hiding in plain sight, Will loved that he could openly show off his ire and annoyance with other people and still get away with murder, in same cases literally.

Usually he couldn't be bothered with the likes of Jack Crawford, but the man had made him an interesting offer. For the most part, Will preferred to hunt all on his own, but if the FBI was going to offer him the chance to track down more unique and entertaining game, who was he to pass up such a ripe opportunity. The downside was that he had to deal with Jack and his forensic team but Will was used to the balancing act of normalcy.

Even Jack's small talk and paltry concerns were arduously longwinded, Will observed. He had planned after wrapping up his class to go home and take a nap with his pack before he went out hunting tonight. Jack was proving to be as difficult as ever though. "…and I've told the board I'm recommending a psych eval."

And there it was. The whole reason for this annoying social call. Jack thought he was suffering or working on a breakdown from the Hobbs incident. Like he didn't have anything better to do with his time than talk about the feelings, cares, and concerns he didn't have but faked with ease with some asshole who wanted to write a paper about him because his process was so fascinating. Will wondered to himself why he didn't kill more psychiatrists.

"Are we starting now?" Will asked Alana, hoping that this would be brief. He could schmooze his way through this with her. The field work was worth the hassle and things were just starting to get interesting again, though the Hobbs case had left a bad taste in Will's mouth. He had been looking forward to playing bloody little games with cannibal. It had all ended too quickly though in a spray of bullets, thanks to another's interference. His personal preference lay more toward blades, a far more intimate choice of weaponry. Will thought Hobbs would have appreciated it as well.

And then Jack finally said something of worth. "Hannibal Lector is a better fit….."

"Oh is he, Jack?" Will thought to himself, schooling his face to remain the neutral mask of untidy suffering he preferred to portray to the world. "Yes, I suppose he is." And there was the other unforeseen benefit that had come from choosing to work with Jack. Will had stumbled upon a fellow killer, another lone wolf whose motives were as strange as they were beautiful.

"…but if you are more comfortable with Dr. Bloom." Jack finished, pausing to await Will's decision which was already made. Alana would be ridiculously easy to manipulate with her professional and sexual attraction to him, but Will found his mouth watered for a challenge. This was the perfect opportunity for it.

"No. I'm not going to be comfortable with anybody inside my head." Will muttered, feigning discontent though truer words were never spoken aloud. Some secrets were best left alone.

"You've never killed anyone before, Will." Jack said so innocently, so well meaning, sounding so incredibly ignorant. It was all Will could do to keep from laughing as he turned abruptly away, stalking out to hide his snickering.

Hannibal it was then. This was going to be so much fun.

oOo

Hannibal was impressed. This was his office, his territory, his kingdom through and through from polished floor to cathedral ceiling and Will had already made his move by obtaining the high ground. The profiler and fellow psychopath was high overhead in his library, pacing, circling him.

"What's that?" was growled out softly at Hannibal who held out a piece of paper in hand with obvious intent toward it regarding the profiler. He noted that Will's hands were in his pockets. Hannibal wondered what kind of weapon Will had on him. Here he had access to his own personal arsenal but Hannibal was willing to bet that Will carried a knife, if not a few of them, upon his person. Gun strapped to his side or not, Will seemed more the type for a bladed weapon. Nothing as refined as Hannibal's own scalpels, something more inclined to the rugged and practical.

"Your psychological evaluation. You are totally functional, and more or less sane." Hannibal smirked at the surprised bark of laughter he got. "Well done."

Will leaned his elbows against the railing, a grin still playing out over his lips. "Did you just rubber stamp me?" he chuckled despite himself. Will had been wondering what kind of power play Hannibal would use against him. He hadn't expected this though.

"Yes. Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing that he didn't break you and our conversations can proceed unobstructed by paperwork." Hannibal said, Will regarding him for a moment before breaking off to resume his pacing, though it was slower now, things obviously under consideration.

"Who says I want to talk to you. Jack is the one who thinks I need therapy." Will mused to the medical books under hand as he slid his fingers across glinted spines, the gold leaf of titles cool to his wandering touch. "I still don't think you are all that interesting." He watching Hannibal's reaction or lack there of through half lidded lids and still called it a victory.

He was being so obviously taunted in a childish manner, Hannibal keeping his pose at the insult. "Jack thinks you need a way out of the dark places he sends you. He doesn't realize that you already reside there."

"I think he would be more interested in the things I bring back out of those dark places." Will pointed out, letting his mask slip a little out of place. No one knew about his kill or ever would. Unlike other serial killers, Will didn't feel a need for attention or appeal to the narcissism that tended to come with his kind. His kills were for him and him alone, which reminded Will of just how annoyed he was over the whole Hobbs incident and the part that Hannibal had played in it. Will had been making plans for Hobbs and his daughter, but thanks to Hannibal's interference, they were both dead now and not in the way Will wanted.

"There is a method to my madness. I don't appreciate you tampering with my design." Will intoned low, his threats silent but yet still evident.

"I've fantasized about scenarios where my actions may have allowed a different fate for Abigail Hobbs." was as close to an apology as Hannibal was going to make, and they both knew it.

"Jack thinks Abigail helped her dad kill all those girls. He's right of course, not that it matters now." Will mused aloud before turning back toward Hannibal, leaning over the railing again to regard him. "So is this therapy or a support group?"

"It is whatever you need it to be." Hannibal smiled back, the expression slight and fleeting at best.

Will tried to decide if Hannibal was flirting with him. Hannibal was wondering the same thing.