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Will was busy looking at the moon. He’d had a few drinks in him by then, and he’d paid a cab to take him back to Quantico. Plan was he’d just sleep off the spirits in his office. Somewhere along the line he must have changed his mind because now he was in his psychiatrist’s front yard and the cab was nowhere in sight. Not even the faint smell of hot carbon emission was left.
He blinked, and the moon left a blue after-image on his eyelids. “Oh. Didn’t mean to wake you, Dr. Lecter.”