sharp_as_knives | Hannibal's house, Wednesday

Hannibal rolled down his sleeves and nodded at the table. Everything looked to be in order for his little dinner. He'd made a slight variation on steak and kidney pie, with Yorkshire puddings, horseradish potatoes, and roast winter vegetables. And, since Jono would likely be far too busy to visit on Christmas day (Winsol no doubt meant a security nightmare above what it already was), Christmas pudding, one week early. It had been sitting for around a month, which should have been long enough, anyway.

Hopefully it would be a welcome break from the excessive work Jono was no doubt putting himself through, and they would have a chance to talk and share music again.

He had no doubts of Jono showing up - he'd sent a beautifully calligraphed invitation.

[OOC: For the one mentioned, though I suppose if anyone wants to drop by beforehand, why not?]

Current Mood: mellow
Current Location: 22 Phoenix Place

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

sharp_as_knives

Hannibal was smart enough to put those pieces into place. "You've been overextending yourself, using your abilities to determine who wishes her harm, and dealing with them. You feel there is no other way?"

Hannibal paused, but before Jono could answer, he spoke again. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion with food and beer?" he offered.

From:

furnaceface

Jono nodded a little, still looking down at the cat, who had ventured, now, to stick a cautious paw outside of the carrier.

//Food and beer,// he agreed with a nod of his head. //This is an excellent conversation to accompany with beer. I suppose most are, granted, but this...//

He could definitely use it, for this one.

From:

sharp_as_knives

"I have a very good home-brewed stout." Hannibal held his hand down briefly for the cat to sniff, then stood and headed for the dining room, squeezing Jono's shoulder in passing. "I won't be a moment."

From:

furnaceface

//Thank you,// Jono replied, watching Hannibal leave the room. He appreciated the breather, so to speak. A moment alone to gather his thoughts wouldn't go amiss, especially since this was hardly the only thing on his mind. The cat, at least, seemed to finally be getting to a point where he was more relaxed than Jono was, which was a pretty good sign, he supposed. After all, the cat really only had to worry about the wealth of new smells. Jono, meanwhile, was battling with his conscience, and no small amount of paranoia, and a whole lot of something big and terrifying besides.

... Jono was not having a simple time of things. Water? Still wet.

From:

sharp_as_knives

Hannibal got himself a nicely plated selection of food and a glass of beer, with a full bottle to refill it from. He took his time, giving Jono his moment, then carried the tray out to set on the table, being careful of the cat, who looked to be coming out of the carrier. "He's a brave thing, isn't he?"

From:

furnaceface

//He adapts impressively quickly to new surroundings,// Jono replied, reaching down to scratch the cat behind the ear. //Impressive, given the fact that he's stone deaf. But then, he was a shop cat, I suppose. He'd be used to people wandering in and out of his home at all hours of the day. New people, at least, he can wrap his head around. He was even fine with the vet, until she started poking at his teeth and sticking needles and thermometers and whatever else into him.//

And Jono? He was a soft touch, tempted to take anything in need in under his idiotic wing.

From:

sharp_as_knives

"Many people don't like going to the doctor, and they generally speak the same language," Hannibal pointed out. He sat back down and carefully reached down to stroke the cat once. then he settled into his chair and raised the glass of beer for a sip. "Where would you like to start?"

From:

furnaceface

Jono leaned back in his seat, stringing up a link between Hannibal's senses and his own and taking a moment to appreciate the flavour of the beer before speaking.

//You'd asked if there was no other option, or at least any that I could see,// he offered. //And the answer... frankly? Is no. Karla's still fairly new in her position as Territory Queen, and there's still no shortage of people looking to not only oust her, but to make an example of her. She is where she is in no small part because she was eventually accepted as an improvement on Hobart, but only after we exposed what had happened in Yllestad to the public. Even so, Glacia is full of Hobart sympathizers, people whose palms he greased well enough, or who loathe what Karla stands for, with her pushing for more rights for landens and acceptance for Black Widows.//

His eyes were carefully turned toward the cat, who was now wandering here and there, sniffing his way around the room.

//The trouble with weeding out Karla's most dangerous opposition is, for the most part, that there's no single united front. There are those who have worked for Hobart, there are those who resent that landens and the poor are being treated like human beings while the territory's aristos find the perks that they were never truly entitled to being whittled away by an upstart young Queen. There are those who used to make a living poaching Arcerians who have been forbidden from doing so entirely, those who think it's a perversion that a Territory Queen choose to carry a half-landen child and keep a landen Consort, and some who simply think they could do a better job. And they're everywhere. There's been one blatant attack on Karla's life already, just before she and Warren demonstrated how absolutely bloody brilliant they are by getting her knocked up, and every last piece of evidence we could use to persecute the mastermind behind the attempt was destroyed in one way or another.//

He spread his hands a little.

//Simply put, we've got no leads but what I can pluck right out of people's heads. We hear whispers, rumours of people who wish to do Karla ill meeting in the dark and plotting against her, and it's my job to sweep in and investigate, to follow whatever web of mental evidence I can find from there. And officially, our hands are tied. We can't risk that anybody will make a move on Karla now, and we can't let their plots become public knowledge without making martyrs of them, or encouraging copycat attacks while the Queen is without Craft and vulnerable. Hell, after the attack on Karla's life, I made a thorough sweep through the Estate itself, weeding out as many people who posed any sort of threat to her as I could. We let them go, came up with some bullshit excuse and gave them all handsome severance packages so there wouldn't be harder feelings than there really needed to be. I made a second sweep once Karla told her First Circle that she was expecting. That's... sort of where this began.//

From:

sharp_as_knives

"You checked the estate to make it as safe as possible, and then you checked the city for good measure, and now you continue checking as far as you're able," Hannibal guessed. "And it isn't as simple as finding hostility; many people may have hostile thoughts and never act upon them. So you've depth as well as breadth to contend with."

He drank a bit more beer, wondering if he could somehow get Jono fuzzy-headed while staying clear himself.

"In addition to the physical and mental strain of that, you've the difficulty of keeping it secret. And beyond that, you worry that looking into these people's minds is morally reprehensible, and that you are a bad person for doing so."

He took another drink and gave Jono a slight smile. "Have I missed stating anything?"

From:

furnaceface

//No, that's about the tall and short of it,// Jono admitted, running a hand through his hair. //Karla would try to put a stop to it in a heartbeat, not because those people don't deserve it, but because of what it's costing me. And thus far, only you, Morton, and myself know about the particulars.//

He shrugged.

//I've been spreading myself too bloody thin. I know that. Picking through heads by day. Assessing the threat. Acting as judge, jury, and executioner by night. I haven't gotten so far as to act on Orwellian 'thought crime' alone, we only act on those who have an active plot that they're in the process of executing, but the amount of those looking to take advantage of the window of a few months while the Ebon-Grey Queen is essentially helpless is...//

Jono shook his head, lifting a hand to rub at his temple.

//For Winsol, I'm thinking of giving Karla and Warren a plaque, awarding them first place for worst bloody timing in Kaeleeran history. I'll call it, 'The Glorious Sodding Idiot Award.'//

From:

sharp_as_knives

"Which Karla would no doubt give right back to you," Hannibal said. He started eating - it really was good pie. "Morton is helping you - are there no others you could trust to recruit?"

From:

furnaceface

Jonothon shrugged his shoulders a little and shook his head.

//We could potentially get Julian in on this, but it's not really his style. And what we're doing...// His brow furrowed. //Morton and I can keep it quiet. We can do it without drawing attention, without leaving evidence. A cut throat. A convenient fire. It's winter. Everyone's burning something these days...//

He closed his eyes and let himself focus, for a moment, on the pie. It was lovely, wasn't it?

//This old tom, he came from the butcher's shop, as I said. We were after a mark who was renting a room, and while we were there, I dug deep enough and found that the butcher was in on the first one's plot. Was going to dispose of the body, so there was no chance that Karla would come back as demon dead. Or, at least, so that there wouldn't be enough pieces for her to do a hell of a lot if she did.//

From:

sharp_as_knives

Well, Hannibal certainly couldn't fault the man's disposal methods, but at least he'd never had to worry about any of his meals coming back to life. Not even on Fandom, so far! "A pleasant thought."

He took another sip of beer. "A pity you can't at least make an example of them, to deter others. Instead you're left with almost as much work when you finish." He looked at Jono calmly. "Are they getting more or less frequent, the nosebleeds and headaches?"

From:

furnaceface

//Believe me, I'd love to make an example of them, if it wouldn't just make them bloody martyrs. I might have a perpetual stream of work to be done, but if this were to be connected to Karla in any way, shape, or form, the fallout would be far worse.//

He was quiet for a long moment more, before answering Hannibal's question. He really didn't seem all that keen on doing so, no, which probably said plenty on its own.

//Less... ish. I push harder, try to stretch my consciousness a little farther, whenever the physical strain starts to be a little less. I can't quite reach Glacia's borders, and the plots sprout up from all over the territory.//

From:

sharp_as_knives

So, that sort of "less" that resembled "more"?

"And probably from outside it," Hannibal pointed out mildly. He set down the beer in favor of leaning closer to Jono, reaching to put a hand on his. "You will never be able to see everything. Beyond the physical strain, what will be the result if an attempt should come from someplace you haven't been able to look? By taking everything on yourself, you are setting yourself up for failure and further guilt."

From:

furnaceface

//Couple more months,// Jono mumbled. //I only have to keep this up a couple more months. And then Karla will have the Ebon-Grey behind her again, and she can take care of her own goddamn self for a while.//

He... didn't mean to sound so bitter about that. He winced a bit, and then turned his gaze toward Hannibal's hand on his own.

//S'exhausting,// he admitted. //It's been a while since I've been this exhausted. This is... deep tired. To the bone tired. Witchblood lung tired and Weapon X tired and Akkaba tired, and here I am, keeping it a brilliant secret by bumping into walls and slipping out late and coming back with the occasional cat I can't hide from Karla forever and the far more frequent bloody nose.//

From:

sharp_as_knives

"I would suggest that you split the work more evenly with Morton," Hannibal said. "And that if there are not already spies in Karla's employ, you get some. You shouldn't do this on your own."

He shook his head. "I would suggest it. But I would prefer to do so at a time when you can discuss it with your best wits about you." He stood and prodded Jono to get up. "Which means that before anything, you rest."

From:

furnaceface

//Most people don't rest by standing up,// Jono grumbled lightly, grudgingly pulling himself to his feet. //Anyway, this is... same old. I've been doing this for months, now. It's not even number one on my list of reasons to lament not being able to drink, these days.//

A pause.

//Suppose it is the most immediately dangerous one, though.//

From:

sharp_as_knives

"Most people don't have the ability to teleport into a bed, either," Hannibal answered wryly, "and I'm not carrying you. If you go on your own, I'll even let you undress yourself while I put away the rest of the food and make a tray to carry." He still did have to eat, after all.

From:

furnaceface

//You mean I get to take off my own boots? Lord, I barely remember how...//

That was, of course, absolute bull.

//But I suppose I can muster up the will to head up on my own. I think I've got that much left in me.//

From:

sharp_as_knives

Hannibal smiled. "There are pajamas in the bottom drawer on the left, if you'd like." He handed Jono the remote. "I'll set the music to play upstairs."

From:

furnaceface

Jono took the remote with a little nod. He didn't generally have much use for pajamas, but when sleeping in Hannibal's bed, he didn't exactly want to go without, either. Even if they did feel silly.

Jono was very much not a pajamas person.

//I'll see you up there in a bit, then,// he replied, heading for the stairs to go up to get ready.

The cat watched him leave for a moment in silence, and then opted to wind around Hannibal's ankles, instead.

From:

sharp_as_knives

Hannibal wasn't much the type to talk to animals, and the fact this tom was deaf made it doubly pointless. He reached down to rub his head, then plucked a piece of meat from the pie and held it out to him.

Because he hadn't quite learned his lesson with the flamingos yet, apparently.

From:

furnaceface

The cat was quite happy to gobble that meat up, please and thank you, and now Hannibal was at least pretty damn tolerable. You know. For a people. The cat was going to demonstrate his acceptance of the people by looking up at him expectantly for another morsel.

Jono, meanwhile, was taking his own boots off (like a big boy) and changing into a pair of pajamas that seemed like the most mild assault on his senses that he could find.

Hannibal and plaid patterns. Really, now.

Still, it didn't take long before he was sitting on the edge of the bed, kind of awkwardly inspecting his own toes, planted firmly on the floor.

From:

sharp_as_knives

They were very sedate plaids! And there were even a few stripes and solids! Just because Jono didn't want to go digging...

Hannibal put everything away (with feline help that made it take a minute longer) and made his way upstairs with a tray of just enough for dinner. Okay, and a small dish of raw lamb cut into tiny bites. What? He couldn't imagine the pie with all its spices was the healthiest for a cat. And since it seemed more or less permanently attached to his ankles at this point, he might as well feed it.

"I'm sure I've socks as well, if you like," he said. Not that he for a moment believed that was what the toe-gazing was about.