“Still yourself, Will. You don’t wish that I accidently cut you, do you?”
“I’m sure you’d enjoy that.”
Hannibal allowed himself a tiny grin as he again dragged the blade across Will’s cheek. Will had inquired about the straight razor he spied in the bathroom, and Hannibal took it upon himself to show him how closely such a blade could cut.
“The real question is: would you?”
Will gave a slight start, and naturally, the blade nicked him. Hannibal, certain that this would happen, pulled back and observed the blood slowly seeping from the partition of skin with eyes alive with hunger. He lifted his gaze and peered into Will’s eyes.
“What shall we do?”
Will, willing to play, shot him a lilted grin. “What comes to mind, Doctor?”
Hannibal turned and rinsed the blade off and carefully set it down upon the sink. He then faced Will, and without detaching his gaze from his, leaned in closely. Using the tip of his tongue, he began to seductively dab at the blood that had trailed downward. Working with painstaking deliberateness, he eventually worked his way upward to the source and removed every last trace of blood with a single stroke.