Will was relieved to hear that Molly liked seafood. He had a particular affinity for it himself, partially because he was a fisherman and connected with the concept, but also because it was almost impossible to substitute one meat for another when it came to fish, so you always knew you were getting something authentic. He'd always found that comforting, but even more so now that he had some idea of what he'd been fed in the few months before he'd come here by Hannibal. But that was something he didn't particularly want to think about at the moment.

He was focused on the menu (and not on Hannibal's cooking), so when Molly moved to press her ankle against his it startled him slightly, though he managed to confine it to just a tightening of the muscles in his leg and not flinch outright. He relaxed immediately and even shifted his foot a fraction closer to Molly's, solidifying the contact even more. As he did, a calm came over him, so vivid that he only realized at that moment how tense he'd become without it.

"See anything that stands out for you?" he asked, curious what she might order. He was thinking of salmon himself, something a little more decadent than what he'd ever be able to catch himself.