Hannibal smiled at the confession of curiosity. There was much in his past. Much pain, much darkness, so much blood. He wouldn't share the vast majority of it, of course. Not now. Not until he felt out how this being who had lived through centuries of the brutality of mankind might take such things. Where he came from was something he could easily reveal, but what caught his interest was the comment about worship.
"Men worship many things," Hannibal remarked, beginning to lay out another layer of potato slices atop the first. "Often they are blind to what they truly worship. There is many a man who professes devotion to God or humanity, and yet truly worships regard or power. This is as true in Baltimore as it is in most corners of the world I have had the good fortune to visit."