"Ah." Hannibal nodded. "No, he did not lie to you, nor did he poison you. Morphine is a derivative of morphine, a lesser version that is used in medicine."
It smelled the same on the breath, and was just as addictive, though the morphine would not make a person quite as high. Hannibal was still quite displeased.
He moved away to the girl and to the sword that he'd seen. He stood in front of the desk, his hand wanting to go forward and touch the steel. Knowing that it was an invasion, taught by Lady Murasaki the finer details of swordplay and honor in the samurai, he refrained.
"I want to ask some questions, Arie, to assure your current mental state. Then we can move on to binding your ribs and getting your splint fixed up to hold you until tomorrow. You will need lots of sleep." He glanced over his shoulder at the girl in the wheelchair.
"What is your full name?" There were questions he couldn't ask to verify her clarity. The date was obsolete in this place, there was no president, and it was very likely she wasn't even from the same time or world anyway. "What is your age? Spell cat for me, and please give me the total of three plus nine plus two."