"I don't mind in the least. What sort of doctor would I be, were I unable to schedule when was best and most convenient for my patients?"
Hannibal perches on the edge of his desk and watches Will study the room. The lack of small talk doesn't bother him too badly; at least Will had managed a thank you, which to Hannibal is the bare minimum when it comes to politeness.
"You said you've been having tight terrors. I won't insult you by asking if you've had all the proper medical tests down -- MRIs, blood tests, etcetera. Your past therapists would have made you do so, and I won't force you through another battery. You're a grown man, you know how to take care of your own body. So this isn't dietary in nature. Which I didn't think it was anyway.
Why don't you tell me when they started, and we'll go from there."