"Hannibal!" she says as she opens the door.

 

"Mischa," he says, tilting his head and smiling at her. "What can I help you with?"

 

"You framed Will for the copycat murders," she says, lowering her voice so no one overhears her. "Why?" It's not that she's surprised, or that it's something she thinks her twin brother is above doing, but she didn't expect it right now. Besides, he hadn't said a word about his machinations to her— which he usually does.

 

He hums and fiddles with the buttons of his suit, a faint blush settling on his cheeks.

 

"I thought he was interested in you," he says.

 

Mischa has known Hannibal since the womb, so she can tell when he's lying. She's sure it's an ability very few people on Earth have; knowing when Hannibal Lecter is lying is something that has taken her no effort, but for everyone else it takes a lot of it. 

 

"Sure," she says disbelievingly. "So you sent him to prison for it?"

 

He swallows. "Yes, I did."

 

"I know you like to abide to tropes, Hannibal," she says, stepping toward him and settling on the armrest of his couch— that offsets him even more than any accusation of interest in Will Graham ever will. He frowns at her. "But you're not my *protective brother* that will *save me from my suitors.* You're just interested in Will Graham yourself."

 

Hannibal sighs heavily.  "Could you get off the armrest before we have this conversation?"

 

She smiles at him. "Sure," she says, sliding off and onto the couch next to his own. "You like Will Graham," she accuses.

 

"I think the darkness inside of him is easily malleable," he replies. "With some pushing, he will become a monster."

 

"Is that what you want with him, Hannibal?" she asks carefully. "For him to kill alongside you? Alongside *us*?"

 

"It paints a pretty picture, doesn't it?" he says. 

 

She hums and mulls it over. It does, in fact, paint a pretty picture— although she loves to murder alongside her brother, the two of them preparing dinner together and planning future kills, a new addition (an addition Hannibal clearly wants more from) — it sounds pretty great to her. As long as they can be sure the new addition is just as cunning and deliberate as they are. Will Graham looks the part, fits it like a piece of a puzzle they've been searching to finish ever since Florence.

 

"It does," she agrees. "But I know you don't want a platonic addition to our hunt." Before Hannibal can say anything in response, she replies, "you're *lonely,* Hannibal. It's kind of in your job description. You've been searching for a man just like us for so long."

 

"I am not interested in Will Graham in any carnal way," he denies.

 

"Should I ask Bedelia about how true that is?" Mischa teases.

 

"She doesn't breach doctor-patient confidentiality. Besides, I've only shared a desire for friendship with her in relation to Will Graham."

 

"But there's more to it, isn't there?"

 

Hannibal sighs and looks at a spot in the floor intently, his face flushed an ever so slight red. "Yes, Mischa."

 

"Good," she nods, smiling. "I'm glad you have a crush. I was worried you were too much of a psychopath for that."

 

He looks at her and they stare at each other for several seconds before they break off into laughter.

 

She picks at a thread on her dress pants. "Do you plan to help him escape, or are you getting him out?"

 

"Oh, I'll make it end in a mistrial," he says happily. "I'll kill the judge while its halfway through." He hums. "Although, the problem arises on that eventually they'll have to hear out his suspicions."

 

"Does he suspect *me*?"

 

"I don't think so," he says. "He probably thinks you are a poor, unfortunate relative to a psychopathic serial killer." He laughs. "I can't wait for him to realize you are part of it all."

 

"Not part of his framing, though," she says, huffing. "That was all you."

 

"I thought you wouldn't approve of it."

 

"And I don't," she agrees. "I think it is not a good way to deal with your crush, but it may push him into his becoming a bit faster than if you didn't frame him."

 

"Precisely," he nods. "I can't show my feelings for him until he has become what he truly is, deep inside him."

 

"He will soon enough," she says. "Do you want me to get you some wine?"

 

"It'd be a pleasure," Hannibal nods. She makes quick work of getting two wine glasses and filling them with their shared favorite, handing one of the glasses to her brother. "Thank you, Mischa."

 

She takes a sip. "How much did you do to him so it'd work? I know about your treatment of Miriam Lass," she says. "So how was it with him?"

 

"You don't *know of* my treatment of Miriam Lass," he corrects, "you actively participated in said treatment." He brings his glass to his lips and takes a sip.

 

"Alright, point taken," she says. "You're insufferable. But,  anyway. What did you do to him?"

 

"He has autoimmune encephalitis," he says. "I was already planning to frame him, of course, but the development of that illness made it much easier for me." He hums. "I induced memory loss and seizures on him through light therapy."

 

"Light worked on both of them?"

 

"Yes," he nods. "And I got remains from all the victims in his various fishing baits."

 

"That is very smart," she nods.

 

"Thank you." He takes a pause, another sip of wine. "The finishing touch was Abigail letting me cut off her ear so I could push it down his throat. He threw it up and, well, the rest is history." He hums. "He should be escaping the vehicle he's in any time now. He'll be here and we'll go to Minnesota."

 

"Am I going with you?" she asks.

 

"I'd prefer if you weren't," he says. "I'd like for him to still not realize just how involved you are, with all of it."

 

She hums. "For now, of course."

 

"Yes, for now." He chuckles. "I do believe he has a bit of an interest in you, but that is perhaps because he does not realize I'm interested in men."

 

"For a profiler, he really sucks at having a gaydar," she says lightly. "For both of us."

 

"Indeed," Hannibal says. "I think you should get going. Again, he'll be here any time soon."

 

Mischa finishes her glass of wine and stands up. "It was a pleasure to talk to you. I'll help you make it a mistrial if you need it."

 

"You could even sneak your way into the trial," he suggests. 

 

"Oh, I am not using my career to help you unless you get caught," she tells him, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. "So Will won't have any familiar faces in the crowd. See you, Hannibal."

 

He smiles at her and watches her go.