"No, it's my fault. I should have told you what was going on," Val insisted, shaking his head and rubbing his jaw as he spoke.

He moved as though he was in pain, and he sank into one of the leather chairs as though he was truly grateful for its embrace. Beside him was a crystal decanter of whiskey, and he poured himself a glass before silently offering one to Hannibal.

"I'm just glad you weren't harmed."