Hannibal was beginning to understand how Baba Yaga felt when it came to stories. He was making the connection to his existence and hers through the written word and the other medium which carried him. His stories were not nearly as old, of course. Not nearly as well known. Everybody around the world told fairy tales. Not very many, percentage wise, read horror mystery novels.
Hannibal felt her description of human reaction to be quite accurate. Something in him wished to formulate an experiment revolving around the idea and test the reactions of a few living creatures in certain situations. A matter for another time, however. And a different partner.
He took her mention of the rarity of his eye color even where she came from as a vast compliment. He didn't think she would say such a thing to a person she did not find intriguing.
As the couple ascended the steps to their building, which Hannibal now saw was not an apartment at all, but a thin fronted house, he pulled on Baba's hand to encourage her to walk again. "Come. It's time."
They managed to make it just before the door shut all the way, the two had taken their sweet time getting inside, starting to laugh and get along again as if the business in the park had never happened. They even paused to kiss a little at the open door. The toe of Hannibal's shoe now stopped the closing from even happening.
Baba Yaga thought he was an interesting young man.
She was about to discover just how interesting he could be.