Hannibal's blink was slow, almost purposeful. It didn't disturb his observation of the woman in front of him. The view was unblemished by his all-too-human action.
"But of course." He smiled at her question. "I never let anything but the finest of weaves touch my flesh. Clothes are an extension of a person, personality put forth for the world to view. To let oneself be seen at anything less than ones best is a crime." He gestured to her. "I can't imagine seeing you in a ragged shirt with torn up jeans. Though I imagine you would be able to make that look just as ravishing. You have that air about you."
Her description of her relationship with the younger Hannibal was curious, but he would accept it. Sometimes it was not so easy to define the relationship one had with another being. He could think of a few examples about himself.
"I'll be quite blunt, Pamela Ravenscroft, I find you incredibly intriguing."