[Hannibal looks up from his tea-cup, listening with a quiet intensity that would unnerve some people. He had no doubts that the other man would not even bat an eyelash. They both know his Master, after all. Instead, Hannibal takes another sip of his tea and keeps his tongue silent and his gaze steady on the young man.]

Well. Then I suppose I shall not run out into the middle of the street, screaming my crimes at the top of my lungs. [Completely dead-pan, that, before he takes up the tea pot to refill their cups.] Although I do agree. This cage is much smaller, and many more ripples would be felt. Staying low is the wiser plan.

[He was simply going to have to cultivate a much bigger escape plan than the last two times he had been put in this situation. Burn all his bridges behind him, if the time came where he only had two choices. Stay and die, run and fight. It was simple biological imperative -- but why give into that when he had nothing to fear at the moment? It would be foolish.]

I shall simply balance myself on the narrow blade between pragmatism, and paranoia, then.