Dr. Hannibal Lecter leaves a number of brief notes

[cook_the_rude]

Mr. Steven Rogers:

You are cordially invited to a barbecue in the Milliways garden where you may try lamb chops, emu, kangaroo, crocodile and other such interesting alternatives to pork and chicken, on Sunday, July 14th (Bastille Day), in the course of the afternoon. I would be glad to see you there.

Yours truly,
Dr. Hannibal Lecter


Miss Rae Seddon:

My dear Rae, during the course of my proposed Bastille Day barbecue, I will be grilling halloumi as planned for this place's vegetarians, you foremost among them. I would feel honoured to see you there and treat you to a small demonstration of my culinary skills, which naturally pale against yours.

Your friend,
Hannibal Lecter

And finally, a small note pinned to the general notice board:

Bastille Day Barbecue

In honour of France's Bastille Day, and for all more recent arrivals to celebrate our great privilege in finding a way to this place, I will host a barbecue in Milliways' garden on the afternoon and evening of Sunday, July 14th. Food and drink will be provided; there will be two grills, one for meat, one for vegetarian options and vegetables. Donations may be made, if you so wish, towards additional equipment for the Infirmary Day Room.

-- Dr. Hannibal Lecter

[[meta: nothing will be people, not even upon request! if someone needs to speak to hannibal beforehand, you may catch him pinning the note to the notice board on this post. also, if your charrie is likely to recognise the name hannnibal lecter as a) fictional b) a famous cannibalistic serial killer or c) both, feel free to not have them notice this note and/or simply turn up at the barbecue tomorrow.]]

Comments

[renegadeheart]

Marguerite, on reading the notice, stares.

She stands in the middle of the bar, and she reads it, and rereads it.

Why would this place choose to celebrate that?

[cook_the_rude]

"Miss?" somebody asks after she has read it a few times. "Is there a problem?"

[renegadeheart]

In a second, her composure is regained, her attitude raised, and a laugh summoned to be ready, playing at the edge of her expression and her tone.

"La, sir, nothing wrong. Just the most curious of days to be celebrating, I would think."

[cook_the_rude]

"In my world and time," the man says, "it's the national holiday of France, a great and honourable republic of some historic standing. Is it not so for you, madame?"

[renegadeheart]

"In my world and time it was a day of great bloodshed, and a failed attempt to declare that bloodshed violence."

Bloodshed and violence that Grantaire has told her would continue for some four decades past her time. Bloody Julys upon bloody Julys.

"But forgive me, are you French, citoyen?"

Madame la Bar has usually alerted Marguerite to that fact by allowing her to conduct conversations in French when it is the first language of her companion. So far in this conversation she has been hearing and speaking in English.

[cook_the_rude]

"I went to school and university there, madame," the man says, in French now. "In my time, bloodshed and violence have passed into history, and the day on which the Republic was brought about remains to be remembered. If my way of commemoration offends you, I must sincerely apologise."

[renegadeheart]

"Indeed!"

Her smile remains as bright and as carefree as ever it was, waving away the very idea of any offense. "Then I suspect you must be from a very different future than that countryman I met just a few days ago."

[cook_the_rude]

"Or one further away," he says. "We do learn about the reign of terror and the guillotine in history class, but the Republic endures, having been threatened, abolished, and re-established many times, and France is rightly proud of it. What time was that countryman from?"

[renegadeheart]

"Oh, I'm sure I cannot remember."

This isn't true, Marguerite can remember very well what year Grantaire died in, but another lesson on the constant rise and fall of the Republic, of Emperors and war and revolution after revolution is more than she can take, as when she looks into it, she sees a line of Blakeneys, of her own issue, incapable of letting such horrors stand without putting their own lives at risk.

"Let it be, Citoyen, and I pray you have a wonderful gathering."

One which she most certainly will not attend.

[cook_the_rude]

"Thank you, madame," he says. "And I may assure you: even though you seem to come from turbulent times, you have all reason to be proud of la Grande Nation, and nothing to lastingly fear for it future well-being, despite all the crises and ordeals of history. I hope we may speak again under less peremptory circumstances."

He bows to her, politely.

[renegadeheart]

Marguerite draws herself up, and gives him a dazzling smile, dropping into an elegant curtesy.

"Naturally, citoyen," she says. "I look forward to it."

For now, however, she is returning to Richmond.