Hannibal began to walk Betty toward a small coffee shop that he knew of, knowing that The City would move it to a closer point than it had been the last time he'd been there.
"I do know." Hannibal nodded. "I met George shortly after I arrived here. It was not a ... perfect meeting, nor remotely ideal. I think that things would have gone better had she and I met as you and I are doing. But we can't orchestrate all of our first impressions, can we." He smiled at her. He already liked her much more than he liked George. George had been all yelling and curse words. Definitely rude. Betty, he felt, would not be like that. Betty would be more like Death had been, he was gathering.
"She told me what she did after I discovered she had no personal scent. Much like you do not. I found it strange, as everybody living has one. Generally speaking, the dead smell dead. You two, you smell neither."
As he'd thought, they reached the shop quickly. He held the door open for her and then found a small quiet table.
"I'm guessing that you've more than a few questions yourself. But if I might start? Are you assigned specifically to me? Is that what you meant? How does that work?"