[it is animal comfort, because he is treating Krouse as a veterinarian would treat a wounded pet on stainless steel. his own breathing is shallow, controlled in this overwhelmed space. add the gasoline and pure iron on his fingers, sickness is everywhere.

he's ready to peel away in case Krouse does indeed vomit, smelling it before the gag begins.]

I saved you the trouble.

[airy, confident. he's been doing a lot of saving recently, all organized neatly for specialized use in the future, though it may not look like that right now. Krouse is capable of a lot of destruction, even in small bursts, not to mention his stamina. the labyrinth showed him as much. here is a distorted mirror image, left broken and out of control from the drug in his system. with the right recipe, the feast could be generous.]

Come, sit up. You'll feel better.

[not a suggestion. one knee is braced against the floor now as his other arm scoops under Krouse's shoulders and lifts him to a sitting position. it's in these moments of contact that Krouse will notice Hannibal's strength, lean muscle working against the weight of a body. he steadies him easily, like the weight of him is nothing, using this time to inspect his arms and turn over his hands to have a closer look at the wounds left by the cephalopod's gnawing mouth.]

We need to get you cleaned up. Disinfect these bites. Can you stand?