Norman had been in the back room. The room with all of his taxidermy and his little kitchenette fridge. He had a few bologna and mustard sandwiches tucked away in the fridge for when he was out working and didn't want to walk all the way back up to the house. Sometimes the walk was just too far. Especially when he'd been doing things like painting. He still hadn't finished painting the outside of the entire motel yet, but the office was done. He might have gotten further in his painting if he hadn't been interrupted by Fred and her ... friend. Not that he minded Fred! He liked Fred. Though, Mother had a significantly different opinion of her than Norman did. But Norman didn't particularly care for that guy she brought up to his motel.
There was something odd about him.
When he heard the desk bell ring, he scurried out from the back room, and into the main office area. He blinked at first, registering the face of the man before him, and then he smiled. A wide, pleased smile.
"Hannibal!"
Yes, of course he remembered Hannibal. How could he forget him? He was one of the few people in The City that Norman felt a connection to. They shared something between them, they did.