[luckily for Krouse, the only true judgement of him is how trashed his living room is. he despises the idea of entrusting the bots to do the work, so he'll be repairing it himself. he doesn't want Krouse to touch anything, lest he arranges anything in a way Hannibal wouldn't himself. the hand once on gripping the boy's arm moves to be placed on his back, a steady but solid form of some kind of reassurance.]

You made some progress with yourself, even if it doesn't feel like that right now. You should be proud.

[so certain, so sure. no longer watching through the mirror, nothing else exists in this room but the two of them and the lingering scent of blood and rot.]

Are you well enough to bathe? I won't send you back in such a state.