Chapter Text
Will Graham
4:17 am
Hannibal,
I have never been happier in my life to lose someone I thought was a friend.
Enjoy your time in prison, bastard.
Don't expect any more mail from me.
I still want you dead.
Even if I almost cried while writing this.
In the dark quiet of his cell at 7:30 in the evening, Hannibal Lecter smiled, for the bent and rough edged piece of scrap paper in his hands had teardrop marks, and only 2 of them were his. He sighed, tucking the "letter" back into its envelope and placed it gently in his desk with a label reading 'Mylimasis'. He'd understand someday, Hannibal was sure of it. He took one last look at the letter before crawling into bed, wishing for nothing more than the dog-hair-covered man he'd come to love to be in his arms.