Hannibal

Previously on Hannibal

: The novelty of Hannibal Lecter has waned.

This fellow, there is something so universal about what he does.

This freak is in phase with the moon.

We might have a little more than three weeks before he does it again.

: I don't think about this anymore. I don't think I can be any use to you, Jack.

: Is there an opinion that you want, Will?

: I have to see Hannibal.

That's the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court.

Hello, Dr. Lecter.

Hello, Will.

Did you get my note?

I got it. Thank you.

Did you read it before you destroyed it?

Or did you simply toss it into the nearest fire?

I read it...

and then I burnt it.

And you came anyway.

I'm glad you came.

My other callers are all... professional.

Banal psychiatrists and grasping second-raters.

Pencil lickers.

I want you to help me, Dr. Lecter.

Yes, I thought so.

Are we no longer on a first-name basis?

I'm more comfortable

the less personal we are.

I smell dogs...

and pine and oil beneath that shaving lotion.

It's something a child would select, isn't it?

Is there a child in your life, Will?

I gave you a chance if you recall.

I came about Chicago and Buffalo.

- You've read about it. - I've read the papers.

I can't clip them. They won't let me have scissors.

Of course.

You want to know how he's choosing them?

Thought you would have some ideas.

You just came here to look at me.

Came to get the old scent again. (Hannibal sniffing)

Why don't you just smell yourself?

Uh...

I expected more of you, Doctor.

That routine... is old hat.

Whereas you are a new man.

Are you a good father, Will?

Let me have the file.

An hour, and we can discuss it like old times.

Thank you.

Family values may have declined over the last century,

but we still help our families when we can.

You're family, Will.

How many people have you killed?

Many more than your father.

Are you going to kill me?

I'm so sorry, Abigail.

I'm sorry I couldn't protect you in this life.

Blood rituals involve a symbolic death,

and then a rebirth.

As with all things in the natural world,

you'll adapt now and mutate later.

Evolve or die.

Even if you know the state of who you are today,

you can't predict who you'll be tomorrow.

You're defined up to now, not beyond.

How would you have done it...

if you were going to do it?

How would I have murdered you?

I would have cut your throat like your father did.

But you're not my father.

You accepted your father...

would it be so difficult to accept me?

I don't know if it would be smart.

We don't get wiser as we get older, Abigail,

but we do learn to avoid

or raise a certain amount of hell,

depending on which we prefer.

I'll need to collect some flesh.

Not a pound, only a piece.

Something you can live without.

- You mean, like a finger? - I couldn't bear

to take your fingers, not even one.

They're so lovely.

And I was hoping to teach you

how to play the harpsichord.

That's enough for now.

This will approximate the amount of pressure.

Blood leaves the body at a gallop and then a stumble.

Are you ready to die, Abigail?

Yes.

Can I push the button?

Yes.

Abigail Hobbs is dead.

Long live Abigail Hobbs.

Hannibal S03E09 "And the Woman Clothed with the Sun"

It's good to see you looking so well, Will.

But I can't help wishing you weren't here.

Wishing and hoping.

How did it feel to see him again?

Like...

Hannibal was looking through to the back of my skull.

Felt like a fly

flitting around back there.

I had the absurd feeling

that he walked out with me.

Had to stop outside the doors,

look around, make sure I was alone.

I know that feeling.

Well, at least, Jack Crawford is pleased.

He showed me pictures of the families.

I looked at Molly and Walter, and I couldn't say no.

And Jack was counting on it.

Haha!

Still with Margot?

Yes.

We have a baby.

- A Verger baby. - Haha!

A son.

Oh... good for Margot.

Good for me. I carried him.

He's my son.

He's the Verger heir.

So... what are you doing here?

There are only five doors between Hannibal

and the outside...

and I have the keys to all of them.

Hannibal's never been...

great with boundaries.

"He who sups with the Devil needs a long spoon."

I'm not letting him in, Alana.

Don't worry about me.

I'm not just worried about you.

Last time, it didn't end with you.

This is a very shy boy, Will.

I would love to meet him.

I'm sure you would.

Have you considered the possibility that he's disfigured?

Or that he may believe he's disfigured?

That's interesting.

That's not interesting.

- You thought of that before. - He smashed

all the mirrors in the houses, not just enough

to get the pieces he wanted.

These shards are set so he can see himself

in Mrs Jacobi's eyes.

Could you see yourself in their eyes, Will?

Killing them all?

The first small bond to the killer

itches and stings like a leech.

Like you, Will...

he needs a family to escape what's inside him.

You know a fair amount about how these families died.

How they lived is how he chooses them.

How is he choosing them?

How did you choose yours?

Ready-made wife and child to serve your needs.

A stepson or daughter...

A stepson absolves you of any biological blame.

You know better than to breed.

Can't pass on those terrible traits you fear the most.

Why are there no descriptions of the grounds?

I see floor plans,

diagrams of the rooms where death occurred.

What were the yards like?

Big...

fenced, with trees. Why?

If this pilgrim feels a special relationship

with the moon, he might like to go outside and look at it,

before he tidies himself up.

If one were nude, say,

it would be better to have outdoor privacy

for that sort of thing.

One must show some consideration for the neighbours.

Have you ever seen blood in the moonlight, Will?

It appears quite black.

You've come to wag your finger?

I love a good finger-wagging.

Yes, you do.

How is Margot?

Your cogs are turning, Hannibal.

I can hear them clicking.

: Click, click, boom.

I don't know what you're planning with Will Graham,

but you're planning something.

Why wouldn't you be?

You've already cracked the lid,

can't resist peeling it back.

Will came to me.

Yes, he did.

I advised him against it.

I'm sure.

Are you suggesting I don't have Will's best interests

in my mind?

I'm stating it as fact.

You've got Will dressed up in moral dignity pants...

nothing is his fault.

I've been courteous...

and you have been receptive to courtesy.

But these niceties are conditional,

and the conditions are non-negotiable.