"Of course I did." Hannibal says. The fond curl to Neph's smile, the way her eyes come alive so soon after being dead to everything in the world, is enough to have contentment rolling off him like fog.

He lets go of her wrist and moves to the beside table, though. The past five days have been a series of finding chores despite the late nights, of placing actions in front of more actions.

And Neph's throat sounds dry, and that's another problem he's capable of fixing.

"About--" His wrist tips up instinctively. He frowns at his lack of a watch. He's not used to rushing out of a shower that fast, not used to interacting in a foreign space while undressed.

It almost makes it feel like a slow morning back at their apartment, though, and Hannibal glances at the motel clock and hazards a guess while pouring Neph some water. "About one hundred and ten hours." The water is from a grocery store nearby, bought by the gallon by someone too picky for drinking the tap water.

Will's adapted a lot better than Hannibal has to life temporarily without a fridge.

He brings the water back, moves it almost to her hand before reconsidering.

He presses it gently against her lips, instead, and waits.