Hannibal paged quickly through meaningless emails regarding lunch timetables and meetings, scanning each for something out of the ordinary. After less than a minute of this, his gaze snagged on a name that he didn't recognize: Gregory Lestrade. He read quickly through the message and smiled slightly to himself. Though the man who would be arriving at the airport the next day remained nameless in the email, his personality more than made up for this lack. Hannibal looked forward to meeting him and making a diagnosis of his own.
Lestrade himself was seemingly prone to exaggeration; his recounting of the detective's abilities illustrated willingness – perhaps even need – to embellish the truth. Hannibal was reluctant to believe that a human brain could make the frankly astonishing leaps described in the email. (Though perhaps that would explain the disinterest in social activities, he thought idly.) He knew the cost of brilliance.
Hannibal was satisfied that, interesting though the man seemed, he would likely pose little threat. He might even provide an interesting plaything with which the doctor could sate his curiosity. His psychological complexity would, Hannibal thought, react in new and interesting ways to any challenge he could throw at it.
Hannibal left the building with nothing more than the information he had gathered. He had decided, at the last minute, to delete the camera footage of his time in Jack's office using the remote server access available from Jack's computer and replace it with a looped recording of the empty office from the previous night. Just to be sure.