Hannibal has always intimidated Samandriel on some level, like he's never quite certain if he'll measure up but wants desperately to. He supposes in a sense it's rather like how he feels about Lucifer. Different, of course, but definitely the same breed of emotion.
"No, thank you, Mr. Lecter," he says politely. Julia had raised him to be polite. His mother had tried to raise him to shut up and speak only when spoken to, but Julia was a far more nurturing figure.
"I was wondering, perhaps," he swallows audibly, but forces himself to make eye contact anyway and press on. He can feel his face knitting into a worried little near desperate look even as he keeps on speaking, "if you might have some time for me in a professional capacity." Half a beat and then he adds on quietly, voice cracking ever so slightly, "Please?"