Meat free cannibal breakfast

[cook_the_rude]

Wearing a comfortable grey sweater with rolled-up sleeves, and a plain white apron, Hannibal Lecter is making a rather late breakfast in the kitchen, cutting vegetables and scrambling eggs and frying bread and chopping herbs and squeezing fruit.

Later, he can be found in the bar, at a table, consuming the sumptuous morning feast.

He will talk (and maybe share) with people in either location.

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[not_that_count]

The Count is also in the kitchen practicing his culinary skills. He is rather good at it despite his taste for for food that his kind likes. He is making some rather gorgeous fruit tarts at the moment. He is also wearing his usual goth get up covered with a black apron. He also has a glass of the synthetic blood from the bar sitting nearby, and he takes a sip from it periodically as he works, each time with a grimace.

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter is working on his breakfast preparations with quiet concentration and great precision.

[not_that_count]

The Count put the finishing touches on his tarts. He picks one up and tries it.

"Not bad," he says, "For human food. Would you like to try one?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Since when do vampires eat human food?" Dr. Lecter asks.

[not_that_count]

"As a matter of fact we can," said The Count, "But we don't prefer it. It also pays to know how to cook well to lure beautiful women to my lair."

The Count grinned.

[cook_the_rude]

"Not here," Dr. Lecter says.

[not_that_count]

"What eat human food or lure women?" asks The Count.

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede comes into the kitchen quietly, barefoot and in a loose sweater and jeans himself, and tugs at the string of Hannibal's apron as a warning of his presence before sliding his hand up the man's back.

"Late start this morning?" he asks.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal turns around and smiles at Ganymede.

"Yes, why shouldn't I?" he says. "There's nothing inherently virtuous about early mornings."

[the_cupbearer]

"Oh, no reason," he murmurs, amused. "I tend to rise early personally, that's all. And I usually see you about."

[cook_the_rude]

"Today, I decided for a late breakfast," Hannibal says. "I'm fed up with institutional hours, and people waking me up when it suits them."

[the_cupbearer]

"And when do they wake you up?" he asks, sidling up half-beside and half-behind Hannibal comfortably, reaching around for a vegetable slice.

[cook_the_rude]

"Sometimes as early as half past six," Hannibal says. "It's due to the time-honoured shift plan of hospitals, but still irritating."

[sunbaked_baker]

Someone has been outside early this morning, enjoying the better weather after the rain a few days ago, and picking flowers. This ten-year-old someone, bearing a small group of daisies she had picked from the meadow outside, knocks on the door as she peers into the kitchen.

"Good morning!" she greets, smiling.

[cook_the_rude]

"Good morning, Sunshine!" Dr. Lecter says, smiling at her. "Come in. Breakfast will be ready soon, as promised!"

[sunbaked_baker]

"Thank you," she says, coming in. There are simple glass vases in one of the cabinets under the sink. The kind that come from florist's shops. Rae remembers them from when she was little, before her mother and father split up. She puts the flowers in one of green glass, and fills it with water. It makes a pretty addition to the window sill.

"Everything smells wonderful."

[cook_the_rude]

"That's probably the scent of the ras-al-hanout," Dr. Lecter says. "It makes the shakshouka special."

[sunbaked_baker]

"Ras-al-hanout," Rae echoes, careful of the pronunciation, "is a spice?"

[cook_the_rude]

"A Moroccan spice mixture," Dr. Lecter says.

[thewidewideworld]

A somewhat sleepy and young looking Sinric comes into the bar from the direction of the Northmans' rooms. The smell of food attracts him and he lingers in the door of the kitchen, unsure of his welcome.

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor finishes cutting up some red vegetable, and then turns towards the door.

"Good morning, Sinric," he says. "You look tired. Was it a good night, or a bad one? In any case, you need some coffee."

[thewidewideworld]

"Good morning, sir." He gives the doctor a bow. "In fairness I would say the night was neither wholly good nor bad but mixed by both. Sufficed to say, it brought little rest."

He gestures to a stool at the benches, seeking permission to sit. "I have tried the drink called coffee and found to painfully bitter, for all its refreshing qualities."

[cook_the_rude]

"Then you haven't tried cold-brewed coffee yet," the doctor says. "Please, do sit; I do have some sitting in the refrigerator."

He opens one of the fridges, and looks inside.

"Do sit," he says. "Can you tell me what happened, or is it private?"

[thewidewideworld]

He sits gratefully, his hair falling forward as he rests his head on his folded arms. "In detail it is personal and more private in nature but in the broadest terms I may speak here."

"Athelstan suffers greatly from what has been done to him. It plays on his mind and causes him to wake with nightmares. Just as I did after I was attacked. I have taught him much you taught me, of how to breath to quell the panic and such and that has helped."

There's a but lingering in Sinric's tongue, held back by the tightness of his jaw.

[cook_the_rude]

"But?" Hannibal says, turning around to look at Sinric, holding a glass carafe with a shimmering dark brown liquid almost entirely, but not quite completely, unlike coffee.