The red side is always blocking my dog ​​leash

The street lights are dim, and a strong elk is walking in the grass outside the road. The antlers look like two twisted branches under the moonlight.

It is Will's old friend, and he can always see it in dreams and hallucinations, and of course it is also a hallucination this time.

The mentally tormented man almost pursed his lips into a straight line, turned the steering wheel to the left, and parked the car in the backyard.

Several of the family's dogs knew he was back by familiar sounds and barked excitedly.

It made Will feel a little better.

He got out of the car, and the moment he looked up, he saw the figure sitting on the chair by the back door of his house. The man stood up straight, and his eyes shone brightly under the moonlight, allowing people to see his face clearly.

A slightly younger Asian face to a Westerner.

Will: "..."

He only took a few glances before looking away, locked the car, and walked straight to the door.

Mr. A who was ignored: "...?"

When the man walked up to him, he said, "Good evening, Will."

The other party turned his gaze to him, and the moonlight fell on his eyelashes and cast a shadow, making Mr. A unable to distinguish the complicated emotions in those green pupils.

He whispered: "Good evening, A." It didn't seem like he was greeting others, but rather he was talking to himself.

This confuses Mr. A even more.

While speaking, Will had already opened the door with the key, and the dogs in the room immediately ran out and scrambled around him, and the two more vigilant ones looked at Mr. A with a guarded attitude.

Will also noticed this, and was stunned: "Arnold?"

Not a hallucination?

Mr. A said: "I still like you to call me A." He restored the processing efficiency of the system, and stood up smoothly from the chair after a long absence.

His already weak body was hungry for a long time, and the pain from the wound made his legs go weak, and he had to prop himself up against the wall.

Then he handed over the weight of his body to Will who subconsciously came to help him, "Thank you. You came back very late, did you work a lot today?"

The attitude is very familiar, as if the two have known each other for a long time.

Will's brain was still in a state of information overload, and instinctively replied: "Well, there is a case that has no clue yet."

"The cases that can be handed over to the FBI are very difficult." Mr. A sighed seriously.

The two entered the house surrounded by a group of dogs, and Will helped him to sit on the single sofa.

Will: "You..."

Mr. A looked up at him, pursed his lower lip in embarrassment: "Actually, my mobile phone is broken, so I can't tell you in advance that I'm coming, I didn't expect you to come back so late... Excuse me, because there is indeed something important. "

No wonder, in fact, it's okay to delay for a day, he just lost track of the time.

But even if he went back, he would only see the sealed house.

Will organized his words: "No, it's okay. I mean... I went to your house today."

Did you know you have a large bloodstain in your house and the DNA still matches yours 100%?

Mr. A: ...

He instantly understood what Will was trying to express.The first reaction was——

"I don't think you informed the FBI?" It seems that you know.

So what's with the blood?Collected before, and then spilled on the ground?But what about the bits of meat on those two nails?

Will squeezed the space between his eyebrows, sat down on the sofa, and said, "Sorry." Of course he contacted the FBI, and if it wasn't for the memory fault, he would have done so immediately.

"Uh..." Mr. A shook his head with difficulty, "No, it's okay. Maybe you haven't had time to notify the family?"

he asked almost hopelessly.

"It's not a family member, I only have Mr. Hepburn's contact information." Will said.

Isn't that more troublesome!

Mr. A's expression was blank for a moment.

"Actually only got in touch 10 minutes ago, and I'm just—"

"No, no, not for now." Mr. A interrupted immediately, "What was his attitude at that time?"

"Very calm. Mr. Hepburn asked me if there was any work that required his cooperation, and then hung up the phone. And..." It was completely different from yesterday's performance in the hospital.

Rather than calm, indifference is more appropriate.

Mr. A breathed a sigh of relief.

That's right, he died when he died, and Bourbon had nothing to lose, even one less future enemy, and it would be nice if Bourbon didn't laugh.

Alas, there is no difference between left and right, without value, the other party doesn't even bother to act.

As expected of Bourbon.

Will took out his mobile phone: "Do you want to contact him yourself?"

Mr. A denies Sanlian: "No, not at all. Leave him alone."

Will didn't know why, and saw that the relationship between the two of them was complicated, so he didn't continue to dwell on it, but asked, "Who are those in your family?"

He noticed the bandages exposed under Jun A's loose scarf, and the pale face of the other party under the light.

Things are probably not that simple.

Mr. A didn't answer right away to point out the purpose of coming, he replied: "Why did you ignore me just now?"

He was a little concerned about the other person's expression at that time. Although his eyes could not be seen clearly, judging from the facial expression, the other person was... sad?

"I just... thought it was a hallucination." Will smiled wryly, "Sorry."

"Does this happen often?"

If it was because he believed that he was dead, so he felt that he had seen hallucinations, Will would not be able to act as if he was not surprised, but instead took it for granted.

He is really used to it.

"Indeed." He affirmed Mr. A's guess. "In fact, I saw a deer walking on the way home. I have some mental problems... and I am already in treatment."

Mr. A's eyebrows twitched: "Who is your doctor?" He knew the answer when he asked the question, and as expected——

"Dr. Lecter, yours too. He's an excellent psychologist."

A work must always have opposing roles and conflicts full of tension. Hannibal is undoubtedly a charming villain. He kills countless people, but maintains a good mask. character of……

Mr. A looked at the man sitting diagonally across from him.

Will Graham, is that him?

But as a positive person, this guy is at least a good person, and his attitude towards him is logically... pretending?

No, it doesn't matter.

Mr. A stopped thinking about it, it doesn't matter whether the other party is good or bad, as long as he is not an accomplice with Hannibal.

"Has your illness improved since Hannibal became your doctor?" Jun A said, "I'm looking for you today because of his business, but I hope you can answer a few questions for me, please."

Will doesn't care about his condition being known by others, anyway, because of a reporter's report, he has long been a psychopath in the eyes of the public.

His head began to ache again, and he closed his eyes: "No, Dr. Lecter only conducted a psychological evaluation on me because of Jack. Because I want to continue to work as an agent, but I can't guarantee my mental state."

"I empathize with the prisoner, or it can be called empathy. In short, I rely on my rich imagination to restore the scene. This...behavior also affected my spirit and made it more unstable."

"Sleepwalking, hallucinations, memory faults...all appeared during this period. Dr. Lecter has been helping me become stable, trying to find a way for me to find an anchor point to grasp reality." Will said, "My situation is the same as yours. different."

He thought Mr. A was worried about Hannibal's medical level, or worried about mental aspects.

"Lecter's professionalism as a psychiatrist is beyond doubt." He made a pertinent evaluation.

Mr. A noticed the fine beads of sweat on his forehead and raised his eyebrows. Will looked not in a good condition: "How can he help you? Can I know the treatment?"

"Of course, there's nothing that can't be said. I occasionally chat with Dr. Lecter, he guides me, the usual treatment methods of psychiatrists, and most recently... he asked me to draw a clock face."

Will took a deep breath, ""Focus on the present moment as often as possible, and think more about who, where, and when you are", a handle to help me grasp reality... Sorry, did you hear What sound?"

"Sound? Have you started to hallucinate?" Mr. A didn't hear any sound—except for the noise made by the dogs, obviously the other party didn't mean this.

"It's supposed to be some kind of animal, it's trapped in my fireplace..." Will buried his face in his palms, and quickly raised his head again, "Aural hallucinations, uh, yes. If you're not here, I Definitely going to knock down that wall to prove there's an animal in there."

Mr. A: "I think you're sober, I mean, sober crazy... I don't know much about that, can someone with a mental illness be like you?"

If it is influenced by other prisoners, lost between hallucinations and reality, shouldn't it be very unstable?

But he didn't think Will's mind was affected.

Will said: "Thank you, but mental illness is a huge category, and any manifestation may exist."

Mr. A thought for a moment: "Can you draw another clock face?"

It's just a matter of hand.

Will fetches a piece of paper and lifts his watch to check the time.

He drew a circle, "49:[-]..."

Mr. A waited for him to finish drawing, leaned over his body and looked over. The loose scarf was completely opened, and the end fell to the ground. He didn't care, and stared at the paper: "Hannibal saw the clock face you drew. ,What did he say?"

"I can't remember."

"That's worthless nonsense." Mr. A straightened up, nodded, and looked straight into Will's eyes, "Do you know that this clock face is deformed? The numbers on the left are all concentrated on the right."

Hannibal lied to him.

As for why, Mr. A doesn't know, nor is he interested in knowing, as long as Will and Hannibal are not in the same group, that's enough.

He was sure he was drawing a normal clock face.

A cognitive bias about space is clearly not a mental illness.

Will is not an idiot.

If Mr. A is telling the truth, then Hannibal, who saw the clock face he drew before, hid it, for some reason.

He also believed that these symptoms of his were caused by some disease in the brain, such as tumors and blood clots.

But he went to the hospital for a CT scan, and the doctor said everything was fine.

Will put down the paper with the clock face in his hand, looked up at Mr. A's neck which was wrapped in bandages: "Are you injured? Is it related to what happened in your living room?"

Mr. A: "I thought you would ask Hannibal first."

"I work for the FBI," Weir said. "Victims come first."

Mr. A was startled, showing the first smile in every sense tonight, "Okay, Mr. Special Agent."

"It doesn't make any difference anyway. In fact, my business has something to do with him."

Will nodded, and belatedly poured him a glass of water, "Have you had dinner?" The pale face under the other party's light made him look like the shadow of a moon in the water, which would shatter when touched.

Mr. A is not polite: "No, bring me something to eat. By the way, I can borrow your computer."

Will cooked him macaroni. While sniffing the scent, Mr. A inserted the USB flash drive in his hand into the computer, and exported the prepared clips.

After 10 minutes passed, Mr. A took off his gloves, exposed his bandaged hands, and began to inhale the macaroni and cheese on the table.

Before starting, he said to Will: "Look at the video on the desktop first."