Flatly, "Sounds like someone talked to your hallucinations about boundaries."

Will pushes his bowl of bland porridge away and reaches for his mug of--he assumes--spiced cider instead, lifting it up to take a slow swallow from it. He can't tell if he tastes star anise in it, or if he just wishes he did for the familiarity of what it represents in his memory. Hannibal has his mind palace; Will just has the river.

An uncomfortable beat of silence before he adds, "Don't do that again." Referring to the pinching, probably.