There was a tingle of delight deep inside Hannibal and making its way to the surface. Even somebody without Hannibal's abilities would have been able to tell the difference in voice, but perhaps not the struggle that went on to suppress it.
Perhaps he had not been wrong in his initial suspicions after all.
Catlike, his body adjusted in the chair a bit, becoming more familiar with it, settling in for a bit of fun even. Hannibal had seen the brief flash of a mouse he thought he might like to chase, and he was ready to sit here a good long time to do so.
"You cannot possibly say that for sure. Ordinary life is complicated and easy victim to many things. But life here in the City is wildly unpredictable. Even if you were to contain and pacify the known quantity that brings this establishment to it's knees, there are many other things to contend with. The falling of Arkham is as a mildly faulty clock. It might not happen with exact regularity, but eventually the hands get to their designated mark.
"It even might come around to a moment where you find yourself within the walls not as a doctor, but as a patient." Hannibal's confidence in this particular scenario was unflinching and strong. After all, he'd been a party to it happening himself. While he'd not run the place at any time, nobody had been spared. So in the end, it wasn't so much a question put forth to Crane as it was a probable scenario.