milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Ganymede is in the bar, with a large basket of blood oranges on the floor beside where he's laid out on one of the couches and a bowl to put the pith and seeds in, beside the larger one he's using to hold the usable parts of the fruit. He's fairly efficient with the knife that's being used to take the segments apart, handling it easily in either hand as he skins the edible peel away from the pith and fruit.

Consequently, the area around him--and Ganymede himself--are going to smell like blood oranges for a while. You're welcome to interrupt, or ask what in the world he's doing with that much citrus. He'll get around to moving towards the kitchen in a bit.

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Hannibal Lecter walks in with a number of books nuder his arm.

He immediately turns his head towards where Ganymede is sitting, and comes over.

"Hello, Ganymede," he says. "That is a really powerful smell."

"That it is," he answers placidly, continuing to cut away the fragrant peel and segment the fruit into near-perfect supremes, dropping them into the bowl in his lap.

"But such is the side effect of making fruit wine."

"You're making blood orange wine?" Dr. Lecter says. "How inventive."

He comes closer.

"The smell is very pleasant, if slightly disorienting."

"My apologies if you were planning to smell your way around the place," Ganymede says, amused.

"And yes, I was planning to use blood oranges and honey. It's a fairly popular combination at the bar in summer. I tend to make quite a few fruit wines year round."

"One sense is missing, replaced by oranges," Hannibal says, but he is smiling. "I'll get by, though. And am looking forward to the end result. May I sit down and help?"

"Are you planning to come all the way out to California just to drink at my bar?" he asks. "I don't often bring them in here. Not the fruit ones, anyway."

In answer to the helping question, though, Ganymede just offers out the knife, blade first.

Hannibal smoothly accepts the knife, takes off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, sits down, and gets to work.

"You could," he says. "Or I could follow you through your door again."

"Would you want to?" he asks, pulling another knife out of his pocket and flipping it open. "The door surprises me sometimes, you might be stuck for longer than you anticipate."

"As my door will take me back to exactly where I was," Hannibal points out, "I can afford to while away some days with your fruit wines."

"And me? Were you not thinking I'd be there?" he asks, amused.

He drops the pith of his current orange into the trash bowl, picking up another to skin away the oily peel in on long, winding strip. "I'm not sure whether you could survive in my lifestyle," he teases.

"Dear Ganymede," Hannibal says, amused, "I spent much of my childhood in a Soviet orphanage -- I can survive anything, even more easily if it contains sunshine, wine, and a well-equipped kitchen."

"How very modern of you," he says, cutting a supreme and eating it, carefully licking the juice from the edge of the knife. "Part of me wishes I could educate you on how wide that anything may be."

"How would you do that?" Hannibal asks, curious, while he smoothly peels the next orange.

"Well, there's the hitch," he says. "I can't, particularly. Not at the moment."

"Not enough handy hardship in California?" Hannibal says, with a smile.

"Not near where I live, no," Ganymede says. "I could take you traveling with me, but I fear you wouldn't much like where I go."

"Of course, we would take ourselves with us wherever we would go," Hannibal says. "Where would you take me if you could?"

"Oh, probably Morocco again," he says. "Maybe back to my home. Anywhere, really."

"I found Morocco very pleasant," Hannibal says. "What do you think we should do there, to explore my limits?"

"What you do to explore your limits is very much your concern," Ganymede says lightly. "I just said you wouldn't like where I travel, not that I'd do anything purposefully to make you uncomfortable."

"I still think you should try me, at some stage," Hannibal smiles.

"Try you in what sense?" he asks, looking up. "I recall extending you several invitations for just that, and you only took m up on it once."

Edited 2014-07-08 22:43 (UTC)

"And that wasn't enough to tell?" Hannibal says with a little smile.

"Forgive me if once isn't enough to seal my opinion of you," Ganymede chuckles.

"Would you like more data to base your judgement on?" Hannibal offers, with a little sideways smile.