Hannibal thought Clarice didn't quite find it funny in the way that he found it funny that there should be two of them within the City at the same time. Would she meet a third version of Hannibal Lecter? Would it drive her mad? He certainly hoped the respective answers to those questions were yes and no.
His eyes followed her gaze to his hand where there was no sign of a sixth finger, nor a scar to indicate that one had been removed. Six fingers were not part of him. But they were part of the younger. He considered telling her as much, and decided against it. If they should meet, he wanted some immediate indicator that would also be something of a surprise. With that sixth finger, she wouldn't be able to deny that he was who he said he was. Well that, and the red eyes. Hannibal had only known one other person in his entire lifetime to have those eyes, and she was long dead.
"A case." He focused on Clarice instead. "Then you're some kind of investigating officer, or training to be one."
He sat up straight, devouring her with his gaze, taking in every stitch of clothing, the way she presented herself, her tone and mannerisms.
"But not a police officer. Nothing so base as that. You have loftier goals, don't you, Clarice. I should say a government role suits you better, speaks more of your attempts at hiding your lack of money. Cops," He said the word as if it were beneath them both. "are of the people, they don't care so much if they're seen in public wearing ripped jeans and t-shirts. Government has more of an image to maintain."
It bothered him that she had said he was incarcerated. That he should be caught. He wondered for which particular crime he'd been put behind bars. He imagined he was sitting somewhere in a maximum security facility, in solitary. If they'd tried to put him with another, he would have played his games. They would likely know that.
"CIA doesn't sound like something that would have a use for somebody like me. Certainly not DEA. FBI, then."