[He stills, briefly, struck dumb by the request. Struck dumb that it ever had to happen, more accurately. His top button goes through and Will crosses, eyes and attention all for Abigail as he lifts a hand to gently push some of her hair from her scarf.]

If you want to talk to him, do it. If you don't, don't. I won't make that decision for you.

[And then, for the first time outside of his own dreams and hallucinations, he lifts his hand to gently touch her cheek while he leans down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. With Hannibal here, the fear of reminding her of her real father seems so simple and stupid and, as such, he stops letting it stop him.]

I love you, and I'll be back as soon as I can.