"Nope. Mine's too smart to claim he's real himself-" Will looks up at Hannibal and glares, but the little twinkle in Hannibal's eyes as he smiles back makes Will look away. "-but I don't doubt he'd claim so if he thought he'd get it past me."

Will pours the water, sets a timer, and stares at the liquid and grounds swirling together in the French press. "Hope we've got it worse than others, just because we're prone to it."