“I can’t say I’m hoping for aliens, but I won’t entirely discount the possibility.” Will reasoned in response, as if this were a perfectly typical thing to be talking about seemingly almost immediately after you’d just thrown yourself and your current partner in conversation off of a cliff. The fact that most previous moments of affection like this from Hannibal had been followed by violence certainly wasn’t lost on Will, but he didn’t try to break that contact. He didn’t think he needed to expect a knife to his gut, and even if that’s what he got? He had, again, just thrown them both off of a cliff.
At the question about their older scars, he reached a hand up to brush his hair away from where a few locks had fallen across his forehead and felt for the familiar raised line that cut halfway across it. It was by far the most disfiguring scar he had, at least in the sense that it was so visible- the smile across his stomach was obviously a greater disfigurement, but it at least could be hidden under his shirt and was therefore rarely seen. Like Hannibal, though, he hadn’t truly wanted to lose those older places where his body had been marked, and realizing that at least that one was still there was oddly comforting.
“I would say that evidence obviously points to ‘no’.” He commented after a moment, running a hand along the scar before reaching out instead to touch the wrist of the hand that was still gently cupping his cheek and brushing a thumb across the still present thin line that had been carved there. “Most likely just those new wounds that might have proven to be fatal?”