A swarm of bats emerges from the door, disappearing as quickly as it came. The thought did not originate in Hannibal's head, and a quirk of the newcomer's eyebrow lets him know that.

'She is very good at what she does.'

The pressure switches, coming as if from above. Someone is peering into the memory palace as if it were a dollhouse, lifting off the roof and casting an eye over the contents just beneath the surface.

The dark gaze never waivers. It makes sense that a doctor would not be disturbed by such gore, but he gets the distinct impression that is not the whole tale.

'My apologies, doctor.' He dips his chin in greeting. 'Vlad Tepesh. A friend of the lady's.'