I see. So you're not retired enough from the job to issue bizarre, inexplicable threats. Again, for the crime of seeking to help someone you claim to care for.
Perhaps you ought to turn that keen eye upon yourself right now.
[Will's reminded of a time when, stuck in a hotel room, he and a coworker had a difference of opinion. Rather than continue the cycle of "no you're wrong, I'm right, look, I have reasons" and argue longer, he'd simply shut the door in his face, sat on a toilet, and talked to his boss. And because Will Graham's opinions on the Ripper are far more valuable than Z's, he got away with it.
There is no door this time, no boss, no bathtub holding a dead body to have a squabble about, but it feels oddly similar. Instead of shutting the door, Will hangs up without another word. If Hannibal Lecter and he are both willing to ignore the mourning family and friends of two slaughtered siblings, if Freddie Lounds is willing to call Abigail friend and push aside any inklings she might have about her following in Daddy's footsteps?
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[This is retirement, in a way. But Will Graham isn't someone who retires easily. It'll bite him in the ass one day.
And then it'll bite him in the face.
He doesn't know that.]
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Perhaps you ought to turn that keen eye upon yourself right now.
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There is no door this time, no boss, no bathtub holding a dead body to have a squabble about, but it feels oddly similar. Instead of shutting the door, Will hangs up without another word. If Hannibal Lecter and he are both willing to ignore the mourning family and friends of two slaughtered siblings, if Freddie Lounds is willing to call Abigail friend and push aside any inklings she might have about her following in Daddy's footsteps?
They can handle a nosy lawyer.]