The mask was a surprise, though perhaps it shouldn't have been. Given that Erik had sequestered himself within a mostly ruined former residence, his return to the facial covering that was previously paired with it should have been a logical leap for Hannibal to make. Yet he discovered that he didn't like this turn of events one bit.
Erik's obvious rage felt like vindication for him. For seeing Erik bring himself so low, both figuratively and literally. In fact, he hoped to cause further anger in his friend by not addressing the gift that he had brought along at all until later. He hoped to rile the phantom. To bring his mind entirely away from whatever it was that had recessed his progress so very far.
Every part of Erik's reaction filled Hannibal. The quick beating of the heart, pounding against the other man's chest like it was an animal fighting to be freed of a too-small cage. Rise in body temperature as if he had a sudden fatal fever. He could even feel the tension of Erik's muscles, thrumming through the air to him, singing a sweet song of power and a desire to react violently.
Good.
"I can't help but wonder at you, Erik. It's not like you to leave somebody behind. Definitely not a wounded innocent. Especially not a person that one of your employees caused the harm to." It was a barb. Sharp and aimed true.
Hannibal drank in Erik's expression, savoring it. "I believe you know Jordan." He turned toward the man, and then feigned surprise and horror at himself for assuming such a silly thing. "Oh, I apologize. You do not. He has replaced Angela. I thought that you should meet him. And so here he is."
He had entered through the door without true invitation, something that was not in Hannibal's normal actions scope. Now he beckoned Jordan to follow.