Will cocked his head to one side, trying to digest what he was saying. "Interesting," he managed. And he wasn't lying - he didn't lie. He hadn't made that connection. "You don't think it's some oddity, but rather an empathetic reaction?"
It did make sense, when he thought of it. He did understand why people did what they did, most of the time. Even the socially unacceptable actions. More than socially unacceptable - taboo. The fact that he understood taboos better than most had always worried him; he'd chalked it up to seeing the world a different way, or the vagaries of an autistic diagnosis. This was the first time he'd ever considered that it might possibly be way to connect to others in any way.
He opened his eyes, not remembering having closed them, and looked across at Dr. Lecter, even managing eye contact for more than a second or two. "The worst myth that I hear about spectrumites," Will eventually said, "is that we have no ability to empathize. You appear to be arguing that we do." Or at least that he did. Somehow, that meant quite a lot.