milliways_bar | (no subject)

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As entrances to Milliways go, this is one of the more unprepossessing. A man stumbles through the door in slacks and T-shirt (a particular brand of underwear showing above his waistband); despite the fairly well-groomed hair and care with his appearance, he still seems a little crumpled and ungainly. The door swings near someone, and he instantly apologises before standing almost straight and looking around.

(Interesting.)

'...oh. Um.

...oh.'

Well, this is new. Jim likes new.

[OOC: Note on playing with Jim here. If more than one person tags, could we please only have one intro thread? Anything after the first will find him either sitting a little nervously at the bar, or gazing in wonder out of the observation window. Thanks! :D]

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Now, Jim is very glad the man has introduced himself in almost the same breath as announcing there was roast dodo for Christmas.

Because, really.

On both counts.

His eyebrows shoot up, and he lets out a surprised huff of laughter. It's awkward, and for once, almost entirely genuine.

Hannibal Lecter.

Roast dodo, yes. But Hannibal Lecter. This place only gets better.

'That's impossible.'

Hannibal Lecter.

'Though I suppose if vampires exist, why not places that still have dodos?'

Hannibal Lecter smiles pleasantly.

"A werewolf of my acquaintance can get to a place where they still exist," he says. "She brought me a winged snake as if straight out of Herodotus before, and an ancient Egyptian Set animal. You're quite welcome to have a taste when the dish is finished. It needs to simmer a bit longer."

'...uh.'

OK, back in character. He looks uncomfortable.

'I think it'd kind of be - well, you know. Eating something that's been extinct for centuries? Bit rude.'

He'd love to, but Jim from IT would have a few qualms.

Hannibal Lecter shakes his head, slightly.

"It would be ruder to the dodo to let it spoil, as it's dead already," he says. "Even if it was from my own world, where they are extinct as well: the nature of time beyond the door means that we could have fresh dodo if somebody came in from Mauritius during the age of explorations. All of history is one big buffet froid in Milliways."

Buffet froid. That was a good movie, even though he tends to personally dislike French cinema. It thinks its clever...though Jim would be the first to admit his appreciation of art doesn't extend much past the BeeGees for a ringtone.

'I feel like I should read a few books before coming back - if it lets me back. You know, so I can recognise the places people are from, and the things they say.'

He does look kind of stupid - a well-groomed party-boy, probably a bit closeted despite the underwear that's as good as a billboard to some people. His smile is a bit too wide and non-specific, like most of what's being said is going over his head. The general appearance is good-natured and harmless.

'Sorry, dunno where my manners have gone. I'm Jim.'

"Hello, Jim," Hannibal Lecter says, incli ing his head a little. "And yes, a few books might be quite enlightening. Even movies might help, but books are generally your best bet."

Pause.

"Musical theatre even."

There seems a smidgen of disdain in that pronouncement.

His brow quirks gently.

'Do you have recommendations? You're obviously more used to this bar than I am.'

He glances around, then back.

'I don't like musicals. Not really my scene.'

"Insipid," Hannibal Lecter nods. "Boiled-down TV dinners for people who can't stomach real opera."

Beat.

"All in all, the classics from the 19the and early 20th century are always helpful. History book as well. Here, you get medieval monks and crusaders, participants of the American revolution, and dead French students who are no longer as miserable as they were."

'Don't like opera either. Sorry. Or Les Mis.'

He does look apologetic.

'It's all history? I'm into computers. That's what I do, work in I.T. I don't read a lot of classics.'

"That is such a flippant abbreviation for an important classic," Hannibal Lecter says. "They nickname the book version 'The Brick', almost affectionately, as if they'd never even seen a book that voluminous, which is odd, as much of popular literature you geeks love is that long -- Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Song of Ice and Fire. Those are less important here, though. Knowing that Brick will help, I assure you."

'Well, you know. Computer generation. Geek. What're you gonna do?'

He pulls a goofy smile that's got just a hint of hard edge to it.

'I read part of it in school. Maybe I'll give the rest a look through.'

Whether the doctor is trying to help or hinder him...well, he can figure that out for himself.

"It's worth it, and actually quite insightful," the doctor says.

Something in his pocket goes 'ding'.

"Ah, that's the dodo."

He pulls the word apart. Insightful. That could mean so many things, and he won't jump to conclusions. Well, not too many. He's only just got here, after all.

'Could I take a look at it, at least? I'd be the only person on my world even to see dodo meat.'

This might be the most exciting thing ever to happen to Jim from I.T.

"Do come along," Hannibal Lecter says. "You are quite welcome to have a try."

'Oh, I don't know about that. Looking at it might be enough.'

(Looking at it is never enough.)

He stands up, and runs his palms down his slacks in a show of awkwardness.

'Lead on, MacDuff.'

With a bow, Hannibal Lecter leads the way into the kitchen, taking up his apron from where he left it, neatly folded over a chair.

It's a large, busy, professional kitchen largely populated by large rats.

On one of the gas hobs, there is a huge pot and a somewhat smaller saucepan; in the big pot, the huge bones of an enormous bird carcass are gently boiling.

The rats get his attention, briefly. He saw them in the main barroom, but carry things is different to actual cooking. But hey, Jim's not squeamish. He looks into the big pot and pulls a face.

'Bigger than I thought.'

He's never thought much about the dodo. It's had its day. The world's over it.

"And tasting much better than I dared hope it would," Hannibal Lecter says.

He takes the lid off the smaller saucepan to stir through the delicious-smelling fricassée.

'Do you have anything to compare it to? Or are you talking about just this bird?'

It does smell good. But as he recalls, Hannibal Lecter is something of a gourmet - to put it mildly - so he wouldn't expect anything less.

"I am talking about this bird," Hannibal Lecter says. "However, I was wondering if the meat itself would be very tasty. Swans aren't, either."

'I'm no help to you there. Kind of a basic palate.'

Not necessarily true, but definitely true to say that food is nowhere near as important to him as it is to Lecter. Also, Jim from I.T. would definitely never have tried swan.

"But great curiosity, I take it," Lecter says.

'Are you saying I look like a curious guy?'

He smirks unevenly, spreads his arms and looks down at himself. He could be talking about the clothes, and what he designed them to say about himself.

'Simple tastes, is what I'm saying. But I don't mind distractions, like anyone else.'

Hannibal Lecter pokes the long bones in his large pot with a long, wooden spoon.

"I detect a certain unafraid curiosity," he says, "that still isn't likely to get any cat killed."

'Well, far be it from me to say you're wrong.'

He murmurs this, leaning against the worktop opposite and watching the man stir. Hannibal's elegant. He would expect nothing less - than elegance, and also being right on this point.

'And I'm not looking for anything that'll kill me.'

Call him cautious. At least today.