WILL: [exhaling fat cloud]
HANNIBAL: tell me, Will. do you believe the Forever Weed could exist?
will, all seventy eight of your dogs can tell that you're high. they told me they were very disappointed. can you live with letting them down?
I'm afraid, will, that jack recently told me of a bureau contingency plan in which agents will be dispatched to kill you if you ever get too high. did you hear that car stop outside, just now?
