Caribbean inlet, night -- 2

[cook_the_rude]

While it is growing cold in most of Milliways' outside, it's always warm at the Caribbean inlet. Tonight, a low-hanging sliver of a newly waxing moon casts its rays over the beach, the palm trees, and the part of the lake that is, actually, the sea.

On the beach, perched on a leaning palm tree out over the surf, there is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, his suit jacket, shoes, socks and tie discarded and sleeves rolled up, with a bottle of highly artisanal beer dangling from his hand, looking out over the water and watching the mermaid who is drifting on the waves.

His tie, however, an elaborate pattern of red spiky flowers and paisleys on a pale background, is dangling from the branch over which Dr. Lecter has hung his discarded trappings of civilisation, and is currently being stalked by one of the forge cats who has wandered over to the beach.

It's not clear if he's aware of the danger.

Comments

[x_coriare]

Well.

Sooraya very much hadn't expected to see Dr. Lecter either out here so late in the evening, or in such a state of undress; she's still fully--and still modestly--clothed, though she has foregone the abaya in favor of more easily accessed western clothes that still cover everything.

"Good evening, Doctor," she hazards, holding her shoes in one hand.

[cook_the_rude]

"Good evening, Sooraya," Dr. Lecter says, turning to look at her. "How are you?"

He takes a sip of his beer.

[x_coriare]

"I'm doing well," she says. "I've been getting used to the school, mostly. And you?" She assumes it must be his day off.

[cook_the_rude]

"I'm enjoying the relative lack of death and high drama in this place," Dr. Lecter says. "Apart from that zombie apocalypse two weeks ago, it's all very relaxing."

[x_coriare]

"There was a what?" she asks, coming over to sit by him.

[cook_the_rude]

"Zombie apocalypse," Dr. Lecter says. "Apparently, somebody accidentally brought them through the door."

[x_coriare]

"Well," says she, blinking. "That sounds...unpleasant. I'm glad I missed it. And you're alright?" she asks, turning her head to see past the edge of her scarf.

[cook_the_rude]

"I am," Dr. Lecter says. "I merely helped with the medical side."

[x_coriare]

"Sounds like a wise choice for us both, I don't know that my abilities would have been any luck against the already dead," she says, slipping out of her shoes and tucking her skirt around her ankles.

"And what else has happened around here in my absence?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Have you been here when some of us were turned into our younger selves?" Dr. Lecter says.

[x_coriare]

"I did see that, yes, but I was unaffected," she says. "Luckily. I don't think I'd be altogether comfortable with a bar at any young age. Were you turned into a younger you?" she asks, amused.

"I can't think of you much differently than you are now."

[cook_the_rude]

"Into a terribly ambitious and obnoxious seventeen-year-old schoolboy," Dr. Lecter admits. "Who I must confess I actually was. If not worse."

[x_coriare]

"Most schoolboys are obnoxious at that age," she chuckles. "And girls, too. My roommate is...especially loud about that."

[mogget_cat]

The forge cat stalking the tie blends into the shadows much better than the ghostly white of Yrael's fur, a moon-colored shape moving silently some distance behind. Downwind as Yrael is, it's possible the cat doesn't yet know he is there.

Until, a few moments after the stalking cat crouches and prepares to pounce, the not'cat pre-emptively pounces the cat's tail.

[ostro_goth]

A surprised yelp and a short scuffle ensues.

Leggo of me!! Count yowls, his intonation oddly Ankh-Morporkian despite only having spent the first week of his life in the place.

[mogget_cat]

So much for the mighty hunter! cackles the not'cat, nomming cheerfully on the struggling cat's tail despite the battering of paws.

[ostro_goth]

Look at it dangling with all the nice splatter! Count argues, squirming, kicking, and still managing to look pointedly at the tie.

The man on the palm tree turns his head and looks at them with what seems to be amused interest, the human version.

[mogget_cat]

Lovely, isn't it? But there is shall remain, replies Yrael, flopping in apparent comfort on top of the squirming Count to pin the smaller cat to the ground until he tires himself out.

[ostro_goth]

WANT!! Count declares, loudly, and the human on the palm tree laughs, watching them.

[mogget_cat]

"Good evening, my friend," chuckles the not'cat, beginning to clean Count's ears as though he were an unruly kitten. "Your tie was surely in mortal peril this evening."

[cook_the_rude]

"Count was going to murder my tie?" Hannibal says, grinning at the cats. "There is so much other prey around for him."

Counts seems to quite enjoy the ear-licking.

[mogget_cat]

"He likes its splatter," Yrael replies, continuing his minstrations.

[cook_the_rude]

"That is a poetic way of describing that pattern," Hannibal says, taking a sip from his beer. "Cats use interesting metaphors."

[mogget_cat]

"They have their own poetry," Yrael agrees, resting his head on Count's head. "And when they want a thing, they want it very much. Until you offer something better."

Getting his paws under him again, Yrael moves a little ways away to let the grey cat up. Once he is clear, there is a momentary brightness in the night, a second moon growing into human-shape, and then there are fingers, offering scritches to the mighty (though thwarted) hunter.

[cook_the_rude]

The cat seems perfectly content with it.

"I should study them more closely," Hannibal says. "Clearly, your attention is something he wants more than my tie."