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Summary
Farmer Hannibal/Werewolf Will
Wip, comes out as it comes out besties.
"Perfect. I will be expecting you." Hannibal says, smile returning. He turns to leave before pausing, turning back around. "Any outstanding allergies, Will?" He asks.
Will almost wanted to laugh, almost, but he resisted since he knew Hannibal was unable to find the humor in it. It was hard to be picky and be what Will Graham was. "I'm not allergic to anything, expect wolfs bane." He answers honestly.
"Aconitum?" Lecter asks suprised. "A rather specific allergy. You'll find there's no use for poisons in my kitchen. I wouldn't do that to the food." He jokes to put Will at ease, sorta.