The Red Side is Always Blocking My Dog ​​leash

The street lights were dimly lit, and a sturdy elk roamed the grass outside the road, and its antlers looked like two zigzag tree branches in the moonlight.

It is Will's old friend, and it is always seen in dreams and hallucinations, and this time it is of course hallucinations.

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

Several dogs in the family already knew he was back through familiar sounds, and barked excitedly.

This made Will feel a little better.

He got out of the car, and the moment he looked up, he found the figure sitting on the chair at the back door of his house. The other party stood up straight, and his eyes reflected bright spots under the moonlight, which made the face clearly visible.

A slightly younger Asian face to a Westerner.

Will: "…"

After only a few glances, he withdrew his gaze, locked the car, and walked straight to the door.

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

He said as the man approached, "Good evening, Will."

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

He whispered: "Good evening, A." Instead of greeting others, it was like speaking to himself.

This made A even more confused.

While he was talking, Will had already opened the door with the key, and the dogs in the room immediately ran out and rubbed around him. Two of the more vigilant ones faced 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.

The already weak body was hungry for a long time, and the pain from the wound made his legs weak, and he had to support the wall.

Then he handed the weight of his body to Will, who subconsciously came to help him, "Thank you. You came back 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 is still in a state of information overload, and instinctively replied: "Well, there is a case that has no clue."

"The cases that can be handed over to the FBI are very tricky." Jun 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 sat looking up at him, and pursed his lower lip embarrassedly: "Actually, my phone is broken, so I can't tell you in advance that I'm coming. I didn't expect you to be back so late... I'm sorry, because there really is something important."

It's strange, in fact, it's okay to delay for a day, he just chased after and forgot the time.

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

Will organizes the words: "No, it's fine. I mean...I went to your house today."

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

Mr. A: …

He instantly understood what Will was trying to convey. The first reaction was-

"I think you didn't notify the FBI?" It seemed to know.

So what's up with that blood? It was collected before and then sprinkled on the ground? But what about the minced meat on those two nails?

Will pinched his eyebrows, sat on the sofa, and said, "Sorry." Of course, he contacted the FBI. If it wasn't for the memory fault, he would have done it immediately.

"Uh..." Jun A shook his head with difficulty, "No, it's fine. Maybe you haven't had time to inform your family yet?"

he asked almost hopelessly.

"Not family members, I only have Mr. Hepburn's contact information." Will said.

Isn't that more troublesome!

A-jun's expression was blank for a moment.

"Actually only got in touch ten minutes ago, so I'll-"

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

"Very calm. Mr. Hepburn asked me if I had any work to do with him, and hung up after that. And..." It was completely different from yesterday's performance in the hospital.

In fact, indifference is more appropriate to describe than calm.

Instead, Mr. A breathed a sigh of relief.

Yes, he died when he died, and Bourbon had nothing to lose, and he even lost a future enemy. It would be good if Bourbon didn't laugh.

Alas, there is no difference between left and right, without value, the other party is too lazy to even act.

True to Bourbon.

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

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

Will didn't understand why, seeing that the relationship between the two of them was complicated, he didn't continue to struggle with it, but asked, "Who are those in your family?"

He noticed the bandage exposed under Mr. 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 immediately reply to clarify his intentions, and he asked back, "Why did you ignore me just now?"

He was a little concerned about the other party's expression at that time, although his eyes could not see clearly, but from the facial expression, the other party 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, he felt that he saw an hallucination, and Will couldn't have been unsurprised, but had become accustomed to it.

He was really used to it.

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

A-jun frowned: "Who is your doctor?" He knew the answer when he asked a question, and sure enough—

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

A work always has opposing roles, full of tension and conflict. Hannibal is undoubtedly a charming villain. He kills countless people, but maintains a good face, so he stands on the opposite side of Hannibal. character of…

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

Will Graham, is that him?

But as a positive character, this guy is at least a good person, and his attitude is reasonable... 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 and Hannibal are not accomplices.

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

Will doesn't care that his situation is known to others. Anyway, because of a reporter's report, he has long been a psychopath in the eyes of the public.

His head started to ache again, and he closed his eyes: "No, Dr. Lecter initially only performed a psychological evaluation on me because of Jack. Because I wanted to continue working as a detective, but I couldn't guarantee my mental state."

"I empathize with the prisoner, or it can be called empathy. In short, I use my rich imagination to restore the scene. This kind of behavior has also had an impact on my spirit, making it more unstable."

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

He thought that Mr. A was worried about Hannibal's doctor's level, or worried about his mentality.

"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 didn't look very well: "How can he help you? Can I know the treatment method?"

"Of course, there's nothing that can't be said. I occasionally chat with Dr. Lecter, who guides me, a psychiatrist's routine, and more recently...he asked me to draw a clock face."

Will took a deep breath, ""Focus on this moment as often as possible, think about who you are, where you are, and when", a handle that helped me grasp reality... sorry, you heard that What sound?"

"Voice? Are you hallucinating?" Mr. A didn't hear any sound-except for the noises from the dogs, obviously the other party didn't mean this.

"It's gotta be some kind of animal, in my fireplace, it's trapped..." Will buried his face in his palms, then looked up again, "auditory hallucinations, uh, yes. If you weren't here, I'd definitely Would knock on that wall to prove there was an animal inside."

Jun A: "I think you're sober, I mean, sober madness... I don't know much about this. Would a mentally ill person be like you?"

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

But he doesn't think Will's thinking has been affected.

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

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

It's just casual.

Will took a piece of paper and raised his watch to check the time.

He drew a circle, "Ten forty-nine..."

Mr. A waited for him to finish the painting, leaned over to look over his body, 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 stood up straight, nodded, looking straight into Will's eyes, "Do you know that this clock face is deformed? The numbers on the left are concentrated on the right."

Hannibal lied to him.

As for why, Mr. A doesn't know, nor is 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 towards space is clearly not a mental illness.

Will is not a fool.

If what Mr. A said is true, then Hannibal, who saw the clock face he painted before, hid it, for some reason.

He also believed that his symptoms were caused by certain diseases of 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 on which the clock face was drawn, and looked up at Jun A's neck 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," Will said. "Victims first."

Jun A was stunned, and showed the first smile in every sense tonight, "Okay, Mr. Special Detective."

"It doesn't make any difference anyway. In fact, my business is related to him."

Will nodded and poured him a glass of water in hindsight, "Have you had dinner?" The pale face of the other party under the light made him look like the shadow of the moon in the water, and it shattered when touched.

Mr. A is rude: "No, give me something to eat. By the way, borrow your computer."

Will cooks him macaroni. While sniffing the fragrance, Mr. A inserted the USB flash drive in his hand into the computer, and exported the prepared footage.

Ten minutes passed in a flash, and Mr. A had taken off his gloves, exposing his bandaged hands, and began to inhale the macaroni and cheese on the table.

Before starting, he said to Will, "Just watch the video on the table."