Her expression turned at once both patient and indulgent -- but the expression wasn't for Hannibal. "If you knew the City," she said quietly, not wanting to hurt her friend's feelings, "It would be easy to understand why."
She looked as if she would say more, then shook her head and smiled up at Hannibal instead. "Come on, then," she invited, drawing him closer to the mishmash of buildings -- some dull and drab, and others strangely out of style, and yet others in a whole different style altogether. "The cafe is probably close."
It wouldn't do to tell him that the streets moved. He already didn't believe her. Sometimes seeing was better than believing -- sometimes seeing really was believing. She patted his arm again, as if he needed the comforting.
And perhaps he did. There was a coldness in him that she hadn't quite noticed before, under the polite exterior. It was clearer now that she'd seen him making statements about what he believed to be her mental condition. And something more.... she couldn't quite put a finger on exactly what else she saw with that coldness.
And it might well have been her own imagination. Still... she hoped that some of the ice would warm as they became better friends.