[ Krouse isn't much of a drinker. He's been experimenting with it, in drips and drabs, still not entirely comfortable with willing surrendering that much control voluntarily. It's nerve wracking, both because it makes him start to catastrophize about what could go wrong while he's under the influence and because he can tell, dimly, that he might like the anesthesiac effect a little too much.

With Hannibal, it's fine on both fronts. Krouse trusts Hannibal to neatly and elegantly manage exactly how much a guest under his roof, drinking from his glasses, imbibes, especially when that guest is technically still a teenager. As he told Heather: Hannibal's European.

He can let go, and get caught. Sometimes he still thinks about Hannibal gentling him through the comedown after what happened with Noelle. Another thing he might have liked too much.

He misses his mom. ]

No. I wouldn't be.

[ He admits, picking up the glass and breathing it in. One day, maybe he'll actually have a nose for it. It's still strange when one day slips in, a future that gets more real with every unexpected day of the present. ]

And you're right. [ As usual, says the faintly rueful, appreciative tilt of his mouth. ] I guess it's too broad a question. I do that.

Avoidance strategy, right? When I don't want to ask you what you think about me, I ask something wide spectrum, open-ended. So I can get the answer I want.

She never let me have it easy on those either. Guess that's why I like you both. I've always liked people who were smarter than me. Like - standing next to a light.

Maybe that's part of what I miss. One of those things I can't hold in my memories. I can ask myself what she'd want, but I can only be as smart as I actually am, so it's always going to be wrong. Just talking to a picture with my reflection in it.