[He sits on the futon, which is the epitome of secondhand store and looks about as comfortable to sleep on as asphalt. Eyebrows knit together and he frowns, which highlights the fact of the matter that Will? Has not shaved recently.]

I did not. [His nose wrinkles, the frown gets worse. God. Human faces should not look this miserable.] Maybe she heard me talking to you in my room... [Miserable.] ...smelled a woman on me when I came back after a weekend and put two and two together.

[Fucking vampires. Back to normal human face, it's like art. Living trash art!]

I'm okay with telling people now, though. If you want to, I—the reason I was so adamant to keep us under wraps isn't here anymore.

[Even if Hannibal Lecter getting his ass kicked by raccoons would have been amazing, he's sure there would be a casualty involved and he doesn't need another death at his feet. The miasma of shit and blood and suffering that follows Baltimore when Lecter is around has been removed. What can go wrong?]