Happy Hour

[balancingminds]

When Charles goes to the counter to get a scotch, he smiles and nods. He's glad to do a happy hour, Milliways has received a few shocks lately and if this will help then he's happy to do it. The cocktail book provides some good options as he starts to write.

Specials
Golden Friendship
Hedgehog
Dignified Iced Tea
If you've had a difficult week, share your troubles and your drink is free.

Its not a huge amount but he hopes its enough that he might make a few people smile tonight.

(OOC: Charles is listening passively so please include your character's thoughts in the narration or a reason why he wouldn't hear them. Thank you and at 1:30 am closed for the night. Open for new threads until the next Happy Hour goes up.)

Comments

[balancingminds]

"Yes, I enjoy my solitary moments as they make those times I spend with friends precious,"

Its a clear image but again a cold one. Charles can't help but worry for the other man.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal remembers throwing a book down at the other man, and the other catching it easily, casually. They are in a large office with a mezzanine full of books, talking.

The book comes with another one of those colour-coded references. It's a collection of essays on psychology, pertinent to what they're talking about. Then, there is a sudden remembered emotion, of curiosity and warmth, possessive and protective, the feeling of getting a stranger's young dog to come and take food from you, instead of attacking.

Hannibal Lecter looks straight at Charles. "I feel I should introduce myself, for context. My name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and I practise psychiatric therapy, so talking about things like this is very much part of my nature."

[balancingminds]

"My name's Charles Xavier and I'm a geneticist by trade but have a great interest in psychiatry,"

That is the clearest and strongest connection of emotion and person yet from Hannibal's mind. Its concerns Charles that it took this long to reach it but then that other man is important.

[cook_the_rude]

In Hannibal Lecter's memory, a blue-haired girl is talking. He feels a faint amusement with the memory.

"It's good to finally meet you, professor," he says, offering to shake his hand.

[balancingminds]

Charles takes another sip as he reviews that memory and considers Hannibal, who has confirmed more of his ideas of his actions.

After his drink, he reaches out to shake his hand, "I didn't realize my name had spread so far."

[cook_the_rude]

"It has," Dr. Lecter says. "Filtered through your student Noriko, your ideas and abilities sound absolutely fascinating."

He shakes Charles' hand, and then, suddenly, all Hannibal's memory is completely filled with a sharply vivid memory.

It's a kitchen floor, and there's a dark-haired girl of about sixteen or seventeen on the floor, blood-covered, choking, trying to speak. Hannibal's hands are gripping he throat, blood welling between his fingers. The place reeks of fresh blood, not just the girl's; and the emotion that goes with the image is too intense to put a name to it: fierce elation, abject anguish, and crystal-clear focus at the same time.

Dr. Lecter's eyes don't leave Charles' face, and his hand still maintains his grip.

[balancingminds]

"They're who I am,"

The memory is intense but Charles knows he's being shown it for some reason and keeps his face neutral. He dislikes being used or tested and nothing about Hannibal makes him want to share more about himself with him.

[cook_the_rude]

"She claimed you're a telepath," Dr. Lecter says, letting go of Charles' hand. "Either you aren't, or you're much more collected than I'd give anybody credit for, if they are neither in medical work or in law enforcement."

[balancingminds]

Mentally Charles says, Was that meant to be a clever test? All it showed me is that you enjoy violence and didn't think through that as a psychic, I would know you were testing me.

Then out loud he says, "Allow me to give you some advice, Doctor Lecter. Don't underestimate people here. I'm aware that you believe yourself to be the smartest man in the room but you're not. If you had thought a little longer you would have realized that I manifested as a young boy during World War II, I dislike violence but I also refuse to put on a show for anyone. I have been controlling my reactions for a good part of my life for my own safety. The next person you try to test may not be as kind as I am. Now if you'll excuse me, I see another patron in need of my help."

With a curt nod, he turns away from Hannibal and goes to help someone else.

[cook_the_rude]

It was either that or the painting in my dining room, is the thought that follows Charles, with a feeling of faint amusement. Stay out of my head if you want to avoid seeing my FBI work, or my art collection.

If Charles is still listening, he will catch a faint hint of amused contempt: that professor was far less formidable and interesting than Noriko had him made out to be.

With that, Dr. Lecter picks up his scotch, empties his mind of any thought whatsoever except a lizard sunning on a crumbling wall, and wanders off to sit by the fireplace and start reading Lapham's Quarterly on his iPad once more, soon engrossed in the Count of Monte Christo's banquet.-