Cannibal at breakfast

[cook_the_rude]

Very early in the morning, when it's barely dawn, Dr. Hannibal Lecter comes down for breakfast, barefoot, wearing slacks and a sweater.

He has cleaned himself up from the night before, all the blood is gone from view, and the cuts on his face and hands have been treated, some of them stitched up, and all of them covered by small, very discreet sticking plasters. Still, he seems very far from his usual suave and collected self still.

He is sitting at a table by the window, with coffee, orange juice, croissants and eggs, peering out into the darkness that is only very slowly turning a soft blue-grey, with sunrise still about an hour away.


[[OOC: Warning for massive spoilers for Hannibal S2E13 Mizumono in both the linked EP and all possible threads on this one, as well as blood, violence and psychological manipulation throughout. This EP exists to give a chance to people who missed last night's.]]

Comments

[mogget_cat]

This is all rather intriguing. Concerning, too, but Yrael has full confidence in Hannibal's ability to take care of himself; so curiosity is the primary motive with which the not'cat approaches the doctor this morning, settling as a soft, warm weight against his left ankle.

[cook_the_rude]

"Good morning, friend," Hannibal says, bending down to touch the white fur. "I forgot to order salmon; should I remedy that?"

[mogget_cat]

"Is it forgetting if the reason for ordering has not yet appeared?" mwrrs the cat, sniffing briefly at the sticking plasters before bumping its head against his hand. "In any case, salmon would be appreciated, if you were to order some."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal does order some salmon immediately.

"It's forgetting if I actually want some myself," he says. He pets the cat's ears.

There is a deep cut in the palm of one hand; the other injuries are more superficial in comparison.

[mogget_cat]

"Sometimes events occupy one's thoughts to the point of forgetting details of lesser matters," he allows, purring against the petting fingers. "And it looks like you have seen some excitement, recently. What has happened?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Everything," Hannibal says. "Failure of my plans, and great loss. I'm afraid you're not catching me at my best, my friend."

A rat arrives with a plate of smoked salmon, and some toast.

[mogget_cat]

"I am your friend whether you are at your best or not," Yrael protests, winding once around the doctor's ankle before leaping up onto the next chair over, and onto the table. It is better to converse at eye-level, especially over food.

And it's less nerve-wracking for the rat.

"I am sorry for your loss. Is there anything to be done?"

[cook_the_rude]

The rat puts the plate on the table, then scurries away. The doctor puts some salmon on a saucer, twirling it into a pleasant shape that will be easy to eat with a dainty, furry mouth and sharp little predator teeth, then puts it before Yrael.

Arranging the next slice of salmon on a piece of toast and daubing on a little creamed horseradish, he adds, "Nothing, at the moment. The door has stopped working for me, too."

[mogget_cat]

"Not forever," he assures him, settling before the saucer with a word of thanks.

[onceaviking]

Eric has spent a great deal of the evening in the Bar, reading and amusing himself with plotting ways to dispose of the Queen of Louisiana.
And Bill Compton.

He watches Hannibal Lector come down. He watches him get settled with breakfast. He watches him sit there.

He can smell every tiny cut and the scent of hurt flesh is a beautiful thing indeed.

Dressed in his dark blue track suit and flip flops he lounges in a chair.

[cook_the_rude]

"Good morning," Hannibal Lecter says, ever polite on the outside if he can at all help it.

[onceaviking]

"I suppose it is," Eric replies.
"Mmm, that smells lovely. "

He's smiling.

[cook_the_rude]

"Who are you, and what have you done to Eric Northman," Dr. Lecter says, with a smirk. "Would you like some coffee and croissant, then?"

[onceaviking]

"Ha, ha," Eric says, dryly.
"I'm talking about the scent of your broken skin. It's - "

He takes a breath.

" Mouthwatering. "

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter sips his coffee.

"That's a pity," he says. "It would be good if you were supplanted by something slightly more intelligent and less crude."

He looks at the stitched and bandaged gash in his palm.

"Your Pavlovian reaction notwithstanding, you're not getting any."

[onceaviking]

Eric sighs and ambles closer, his book - a tattered Swedish paperback - dangling from his fingers.

"That really is the best insult you can come up with, isn't it?" he remarks.
"Crude, rude, blah."

Then he smiles again. "And it's hardly Pavlovian. Look, no fangs."

[cook_the_rude]

"It's not an insult but a statement of fact," Dr. Lecter says. "I don't do insults. They're pointless."

He picks a scab. Fresh blood well up.

[herr_bookman]

The boy is hesitant, now, remembering the Knight's words about Dr. Lecter's cruelty. He wants to be able to make up his own mind about him, but he also doesn't want to disappoint Lohengrin. Autor hovers near the stairs, watching the good doctor intently.

[cook_the_rude]

"Good morning, Autor," Dr. Lecter says, sounding quite friendly. "It is very early."

Pause.

"Would you like some orange juice or tea?"

[herr_bookman]

He would, very much, but he shakes his head. "Dr. Lecter," he starts, unsure of how to begin. He stares at his shoes. "I don't know... if I'm supposed to be around you. Sir."

[cook_the_rude]

"What made you doubt that?" Dr. Lecter asks.

[herr_bookman]

The boy fidgets a bit, laying his expertly bandaged hand on the banister. He opens his mouth to speak, but once he does, the floodgates burst. "Well," he says, adjusting his glasses and ordering his thoughts, "someone told me of your cruelty, sir, and I... I believe them, because I know them to be trustworthy, sir, and so it makes me wonder, sir, if I should be around you even though I told them that I can't discount your skills at the piano. Sir."

[cook_the_rude]

"Someone," Dr. Lecter says. "Someone you'd believe without any further evidence?"

[herr_bookman]

The boy hesitates, but then nods. "Yes, sir," he says softly. "Someone I'd trust with my life."

[cook_the_rude]

"And what did they say about me?" Dr. Lecter asks.