"You'll have to open the door to shoot me, you realize." Hannibal's eyes only flicker from Cohle's face for an instant, to look pointedly at his gun. There's a smirk in his eyes. "This glass is bulletproof."

What is Cohle defending himself against? Not the idea, not yet. It seems it hasn't quite occurred to him at all. Hannibal watches him, head still tilted to the side like a curious bird, neck arching back a moment as if to find a better angle to observe.

"I've had the pleasure - perhaps unique, even in a world as interconnected as ours has become - of speaking to many people who found themselves bearing a Mark. The media doesn't always like reporting the full truth. They'd rather something squeaky clean and celebratory. How romantic."

Hannibal has been absolutely still, in posture and in tone, but now he takes an unmistakable step forward. A foot away from the glass wall, he stops again. "They bleed, as you're surely about to find out yourself, Detective Cohle.

"One cannot expect a message from God without some bloodshed."