I think . . . I prefer restlessness. Because at least with that, you know what's coming, you know? You don't have to wait and see what your head decides to give you. It's not something different every time. It's exhausting, but you can get used to it.

[She can't get used to the bad dreams. For a while she was able to keep them away with a thick shield of denial and distraction - for a while she shut Hannibal out, and that helped too. She thought, if she was dead, how could dreams hurt her? Mind over matter almost worked.]

[But he is still here, and he is still haunting her, and now she is so, so angry. At him, at Will, even at Alana sometimes. At her father. At her circumstances. At herself.]

[She'd rather neither of them have either of these, is the real answer. But it's a weaselly one, and the man in front of her would not appreciate it. So she shakes her head and doesn't let it out.]

Is someone giving you sleeping pills here?