Happy hour!

[cook_the_rude]

[[meta: #tamed the reporter #hannibal is now post- 'trou normand']]

Dr. Hannibal Lecter steps up to the bar, receives a napkin, smiles, sheds his jacket and tie, rolls up his sleeves and dons an apron, takes stock of what's in reach behind the bar, and writes his list of specials:

Austro-Hungarian Happy Hour
Wines
Refosk (Slovenia)
Tokaj (Hungary)
Green Veltliner (Austria)
Schiava Gentile (Alto Adige)

Beer
Original Pilsner (Czech Republic)
Original Budweiser Budvar (Czech Republic)

Then, he stands ready to take your order.

Comments

[herr_bookman]

"Bar calls upon you frequently for this," Autor remarks, gliding by on his carpet and with his nose stuck in Russian for Beginniners.

[cook_the_rude]

"Perhaps she knows I enjoy it," Dr. Lecter says, smiling up at him.

[herr_bookman]

"Of course," Autor says, and then squints at the menu. "I am always amused when you allow people to give you orders; I would think it'd be the other way around."

[cook_the_rude]

"You know I like to spoil my friends," Dr. Lecter smiles. "What would you like to drink?"

[herr_bookman]

"And despoil your enemies?" Autor asks pleasantly. "Nothing, thank you."

[cook_the_rude]

"You didn't eat your latkes, the last time," Hannibal says, mildly.

[herr_bookman]

Autor's breath hitches. "What last time?" he asks, already forming his hunches.

[cook_the_rude]

"When you were completely intoxicated from the juggling ball?" Dr. Lecter suggests.

[herr_bookman]

"Ah," Autor says, nodding casually even as he pales. "I figured you would take advantage of that."

[cook_the_rude]

"Making you latkes is a way of taking advantage, now?" Hannibal says, shaking his head again.

[herr_bookman]

Autor flashes him a seething smile. "For the High Priest? Yes, of course it is."

[cook_the_rude]

"Should I have let you harm yourself making your own latkes?" Dr. Lecter says. "I couldn't allow that, could I?"

[herr_bookman]

"Ah, but you forget, in the Cult of Help there is always someone who steps in," Autor says. "I bet you had someone aiding you with your own hangover as soon as I left."

[cook_the_rude]

"Of course there were," Hannibal says. "This is the official religion of Milliways, you might say."

[herr_bookman]

"No, you might say that," Autor says. "Still. Congratulations on your anointment."

He tilts his head, and brings his book up to his face again. "Actually, the more apt comparison for you might be Chief Zookeeper. You've got them eating out of your hands, and they don't even know they have cages to rattle."

[cook_the_rude]

"My dear Autor, you are really very paranoid," Dr. Lecter says. "You need help. Not necessarily mine, as I appear to be an object of your paranoia."

[herr_bookman]

"Ah, right," he says, adjusting his glasses. "We are in public, aren't we?"

He shakes his head, and glances at the menu. "A water, please."

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter pulls out a nice blue bottle, cracks it open with a hiss, and pours the sparkling water into a glass, leaving about half in the bottle.

Then, he pushes both over towards Autor.

[herr_bookman]

"You spoil the fungi, too?" he murmurs, blinking. "That's rather elegant. Thank you."

He's fairly certain it will be the best water he's ever had in his life.

[cook_the_rude]

"Did you expect tap water?" Hannibal asks, sounding amused.

[herr_bookman]

"Yes?" Autor says, examining the bottle. "You don't need to prove any point as far as I can tell, and in no way would I wish you to spoil me."

[cook_the_rude]

"Why should I not give you something better?" Dr. Lecter says. "You wouldn't seriously expect otherwise."

[herr_bookman]

"It's true," Autor says, "your cages are very comfortable."

[cook_the_rude]

"I think," Dr. Lecter says, in a gentle voice, "now you definitely took a wrong turn somewhere, mentally."

Beat.

"Is there a doctor you trust?"

[herr_bookman]

Autor sighs at him. "Good night, Dr. Lecter," he says. He places his nose back in his book and starts to drift off.