[It's a shame, then. Gilbert, clearly, doesn't have a good deal of people in his life who treat him well. Or so Hannibal has come to think, his talk of being "just" a servant taken into account. He's tempted to ask about his dinner party, but not immediately. Perhaps not while they're here, either. It could have been stressful, and the last thing he wants to do is give him more distress.

A sandwich that's not his usual fare? That's more like it.]

Why would I not? There's a farmer's market here. It drew my attention as soon as I heard of it. Granted, it's hardly the selection I'm used to and I don't have the appliances I would like in order to properly cook, but I am capable of doing what I can with what I have.

[Hannibal does not at all seem out of place, not when he strides over to the nearest selection of utensils and plucks up the longest straight razor blade he can find. He turns it over in his hand, inspecting it. It's good enough.]

Is it clean, Gilbert? Or is there a clean basin I could wash it in? It'll do just fine.