[ There was a contemplative moment, before Will gave a small nod. He wasn't going to push further, though he did keep the door open; in a manner of speaking. ]

The events that kept Hannibal from eating my brain, lead to a situation were a plastic surgeon was going to remove my face, to transplant it onto the man who fed his face to my dogs.

Cordell's plan did not include anesthesia, or my being dead in any way at the time.

I still remember the first cut and tug of the scalpel.