Will simply nodded in conceding to Hannibal’s point on the matter of dying hallucinations. He may have had a particularly unique view of the human mind, but he would never deny that Hannibal had the upper hand in matters of psychology. He had also long since grown past believing that Hannibal would outright lie to him. Manipulate? Sure. But he’d seen enough of Hannibal’s true self that truly lying seemed pointless. Hannibal played games, but they always had a point. So if he said that this was exceedingly unlikely to be a mutual hallucination, Will readily believed him.
“Hell does seem to be a stretch. I think for the moment, purgatory seems like the most likely choice. That or we were abducted by aliens. I think it would be foolish to write off even a seemingly absurd possibility entirely, considering how impossible any of this should be.” He agreed as he leaned into the touch to his cheek, eyes likewise traveling down Hannibal’s body. The lack of wounds did seem to lend further support to the idea that this wasn’t Hell.
Eventually his own gaze flicked back up to meet Hannibal’s as well. Steady, and not flinching away from the eye contact as he would have once done. “I don’t know that I agree. I might not have been opposed to a few permanent reminders. It might have been inconvenient, though.” His feelings about his scars were complex, but over time he had come to regard them as mostly just being part of a tapestry on his skin. Marks of experiences had and things survived. A few more might not have been the worst thing, in his mind.