He couldn't help but move with her. She was confident and once she turned him onto it, he could hear it as well. His sense of smell may have been mostly ruined by the rotting of his face, but it was there enough. As they got closer, he could finally smell the blood rushing through the body, making it warm.
Warm.
Which he was not.
The warm would fill him, and then he too would feel it. It would be gone soon, but that didn't matter.
Hannibal tightened his grip on River's hand as they moved closer. He didn't want to let her go. Something deep in him cried out of a previous loss, and he didn't want to know that again.