Late afternoon, outside

[cook_the_rude]

Outside the back door to the general behind-the-scenes area which isn't far from the kitchen door and which Dr. Hannibal Lecter seems to have found by simply wandering away from the infirmary day room with his drip stand, there are a few chairs and a table which people seem to use to take breaks from whatever they had been doing there. A few waitrats are actually lounging around in the late afternoon sun and not paying any attention to Dr. Lecter; in fact, one of them has a little sign that declares WE'RE ON A BREAK!!!

Dr. Lecter sits in one of the chairs and looks up at the sky. He's wearing a paisley dressing gown over a soft green sweater, and a matching paisley shawl is covering the low-hanging thing on the drip stand. His slippers are plaid.

He is still rather pale and wan, but his face, as usual, will give away little.

Comments

[herr_bookman]

She doesn't say anything, just trudges back to the bar, teary-eyed and resentful.

Autor gives her a wide berth as he approaches Hannibal, holding a thermos of hot, pale Darjeeling tea. "Was that her?" he whispers.

[cook_the_rude]

"It was," Hannibal says. "She is still very angry, which is very understandable. Hello, Autor!"

[herr_bookman]

"Never thought I'd hear you admit any sort of culpability for your actions," Autor says, adjusting his glasses. His lips twitch. "Hello, Hannibal."

[cook_the_rude]

"She has the right to be angry at me," Hannibal says. "We had an affair, and it ended very suddenly."

He give a little shrug with his left shoulder; the right hand his holding on to the drip stand.

"Are you going to tar and feather me now?"

[herr_bookman]

"No," Autor says, shrugging himself. "I'm going to bring you tea. But only because you gave me some when I was sick. Now we're even."

He calls two cups out of his sylladex, fills them both, and offers one to Hannibal.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal takes it, and tastes it with obvious attention and appreciation.

"A very nice, crisp Darjeeling," he says. "Excellent tea -- thank you!"

[herr_bookman]

Frankly, Autor is surprised that he took it. "You're welcome," he says eventually, and indulges in his own drink. He looks at the rats, at the grass, towards the lake--and finally, back at Dr. Lecter.

"It's strange to see you up and about after seeing you with so many tubes earlier," he says. "And I confess that I don't know what I'm doing, engaging you like this."

[cook_the_rude]

"You're doing the sensible thing at last, Autor," Hannibal says.

[herr_bookman]

Autor's smile is darkly amused. "No, no I'm not," he says, sipping his tea. "And having you say it makes me realize how irrational it is."

[cook_the_rude]

"What's irrational about being sensible?" Hannibal asks, smiling. "You can't possibly still believe I'd harm you."

[herr_bookman]

"Not physically, no," Autor says. "But I'd be foolish if I discounted your masterful ability to harm me." He watches Dr. Lecter's cup, prepared to top it off if needed.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal sips his tea, looking as leisurely and relaxed as anybody can while visibly injured.

"Why would I want to harm you? I can harm so many miserable people; you for one may in time become an equal, albeit a vegetarian one. I wouldn't waste that."

[herr_bookman]

Autor looks away. "I don't know if I'd like to be your equal," he says slowly, turning the idea over in his head. It's tempting him, and he hates that. "Or, rather, I'd like to be your equal without being anything like you."

[cook_the_rude]

"At the moment, it's still rather the other way around," Hannibal points out.

He sips his tea again.

[herr_bookman]

Autor offers to top off his tea cup. "Then I should do the smart thing and run."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal holds out his cup.

"You might now, but you'll be back," he says, smiling.

[herr_bookman]

Autor fills the cup, setting his teeth. "No, I won't. Not even to hear about your Memory Palace."

[cook_the_rude]

"I wouldn't talk about mine as much as about yours," Hannibal says. "You would want to start out with a place that feels familiar and safe, that is uniquely yours."

[herr_bookman]

Autor blinks. He doesn't think he has one of those. Except... "All right. I have one in mind," the boy says, raising a brow.

[cook_the_rude]

"It will connect to a number of places of a similar kind," Hannibal says, "similar, but each different. If it's a house, there might be rooms and stairs and corridors, if it's a street, a number of shops, if it's in a wood, individual trees."

[herr_bookman]

Autor closes his eyes, thinking. His safe place was on his carpet in the air, so a rather silly image of clouds surrounding it forms in his head. "Hence the term palace," he says, unsure if he's thinking of it correctly.

[cook_the_rude]

"Method of loci, to use the correct term," Hannibal says. "A series of interconnected places, similar but different that you can tell apart."

[herr_bookman]

Autor applies unobtrusive colors and labels to his clouds: dossiers for one, things having to do with Rae for another--and the cloud is bright white and fluffy. Things having to do with Hannibal take up yet another, dark grey and pulsing with lightning.

"Hm," Autor says, quickly categorizing his clouds. "It's... interesting. I can see how it works."

[cook_the_rude]

"if you need to store things in a certain order, you need to distribute them along a route through the place," Hannibal says. "Individual factoids can just be stored in allocated loci, and you will have to go there in your mind to reach the information. The movement through the place that you have arranged in your mind is the very act by which you memorise those facts."

[herr_bookman]

Autor can move through his palace in a three dimensional way, floating in every direction on his carpet, so his organization takes a little getting used to.

"I see," he says, closing his eyes again. "What is your palace like?"