"My legs are scratched," she answers, after a moment where, true, she is concerned, but then lifts her head to meet Hannibal's gaze, calm and unafraid.

She isn't afraid of Hannibal. Neither does she trust him much, but she won't act like prey; that's the first thing Noriko learned living on her own, to not act like prey. She doesn't intend to change now. "There are always broken bottles and glass on the ground. The cuts aren't deep, they'll heal."

She'd appreciate some help up, and the black stockings she had been wearing are now toast, but she can deal with that. There's nothing she can do about the bruise she'll have across her neck.