Samandriel takes the hand, smiling as he holds it firmly, money still in his palm. "I appreciate it, thank you Dr. Lecter. Now, if you don't mind, I have a concert to get ready for."
And he hopes that Hannibal doesn't, because he's taken his opportunity to both pay him and show off a little bit. Without another word and only a wry smile, something of quiet, devious victory, the angel is gone. There is a brief sound of beating wings that follows him, but nothing more.