The garden at night had drawn Hannibal because of a certain flower that only bloomed when the sun was long gone. He'd wanted to see it, to sketch it. He'd been long thinking about the things he needed to get done. Such as finding River and getting back to work at the hospital, but hadn't put any of his ideas into action.
There was no particular reason for it. He just hadn't motivated himself in that direction. Psychologically, he knew it was due to his time inside of Arkham. He'd felt restricted there in a way he hadn't felt in a very long time. He longed for the freedom of not being attached to anybody or anything. Of being outside and away from institutional walls. Going inside the hospital right now was the almost like walking right back into the asylum. Though he knew it wasn't really the same. They wouldn't treat him like a patient at the hospital. He would be treated like a doctor.
Like what he was.
Hannibal found the flower he'd been looking for and stopped before it. Just as he moved to bring his sketchbook out, he heard the sound of shoe soles disturbing the gravel behind him. It wasn't the sort of sound that came of somebody walking up, no. That would have had some accompanying footsteps. This was something else entirely. He turned and discovered Lestat standing there and smiled.
"You've been flying, I see. I do envy you that." Of course, if it weren't for River, there was a good chance Hannibal would have agreed long ago to let Lestat change him. But he couldn't and wouldn't do that to her.