Sunday evening by the Caribbean beach

[cook_the_rude]

 Dr. Hannibal Lecter is sitting on a large towel or blanket at the Caribbean beach, with a picnic hamper and an iThinggie docking station looking like a retro portable radio playing baroque music from the New World.

Not far away, a small rowing boat is tied up on a fallen tree-trunk by a long rope, swaying gently in the surf.

The sun is nearing the horizon, and if this was a painting, it would be utterly disqualified for being unrealistic and kitschy.



[[OOC: There is a plot point to this, but everybody is welcome.]]

Comments

[just_cant_lose]

In a flagrant abuse of Millitime, a thirty-five year old Jim wanders up the beach with a bag over his shoulder (with a pointy thing poking out the top), dressed in shorts, a light white shirt and shades. He takes in the scene with visible amusement as he approaches, swings the bag down to the sand and says, 'evening.'

[cook_the_rude]

"The same to you, Jim," Hannibal says, peering at the bag. "Would you like some wine? White or rosé?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Seeing as I'm not a middle-aged housewife, I'll go with white. Thanks.'

He pulls a towel out of the bag. The harpoon too. It's only a small one, easily explained as him wanting to shoot at fish. Or just shoot at nothing. Both are equally viable. There are lights in there as well, but he'll have a drink first. It's not dark enough yet anyway.

'Fan of baroque?'

[cook_the_rude]

"Being out on the beach in the evening sun is the only excuse for rosé one has, unless one is a middle-aged housewife or a biker lady," Hannibal says, pouring some white for Jim. "And yes, the music seems fitting, given the place's connection to the 18th century Spanish Main."

[just_cant_lose]

'I thought biker ladies cracked beer bottles open with their teeth. Or is that lesbians?'

The only lesbian he knows personally is the most feminine woman he's ever come across, and also the most dangerous. He might fancy Irene Adler if she weren't boring enough to lose to Sherlock.

'This particular place? Do tell.'

He comes down to lounge easily on his towel, looking out over the water.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal hands him the glass.

"Biker ladies do have their mellow and feminine side," Hannibal says. "In a way, they are very traditional women. A friend of mine ended up with a rather large misdelivery of rosé once, and sold it entirely to the local motorcycle club."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim's eyebrows raise.

'I would love to hear what a 'traditional woman' is, Hannibal.'

Seriously.

[cook_the_rude]

"In that context," Hannibal says, "very sexualised, submissive, treasured for their looks, unequal, riding pillion behind the men."

[just_cant_lose]

'If you have to contextualise it, it's not traditional.'

Because there's no such thing as traditional, but eh, he didn't come for a discussion of gender roles and the perception thereof by society. He drinks his wine.

'Bonnie Murdock's a biker, isn't she?'

[cook_the_rude]

"An unusual one," Dr. Lecter allows.

[just_cant_lose]

Eh.

He rolls onto his back, pillowing his head on an arm and twirling the wine glass idly between his fingers.

'Whats the plan, then?'

[cook_the_rude]

"We enjoy some wine and food," Hannibal says, "and when it gets darker, we take the boat out do dive and swim, and leave it lit to make sure we find it again in the gathering darkness."

[just_cant_lose]

He grins at the sky, amused again.

'Are you sure you're not trying to seduce me?'

He's teasing.

'What's for dinner?'

[cook_the_rude]

"Positive," Hannibal says.

Pause.

"I brought some assorted tapas, easy to eat informally."

[just_cant_lose]

'I'm offended.'

He's really not.

'Tapas is fine. I should probably buy you dinner at some point, but you've not got a hope in hell of me cooking anything.'

Besides, there are probably more interesting things he can get hold of for repayment purposes.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal starts unpacking and uncovering many small dishes, each with another savoury Spanish delicacy.

"I am sure we will find something you can do for me."

[just_cant_lose]

'Mmm, possibly.'

It will depend if it's something he wants to do; Jim doesn't hold himself to any obligations unless he feels like it, or they're interesting. But something in exchange for dinner will be unlikely to inconvenience him.

He comes up to lean on his elbow, surveying the food.

'Does Milliways provide whatever random ingredient you decide to try out?'

[cook_the_rude]

"Almost anything," Hannibal says, "and I must admit there are ingredients I have not asked for."

[just_cant_lose]

'Why not?'

He's going to assume Hannibal's not talking about people. There would be no point in asking for that.

'You can't tell me you're shy.'

[cook_the_rude]

"Because I don't want the bar telling Security what I ordered," Hannibal says, "and because some ingredients must be harvested in the wild."

[just_cant_lose]

Oh, so they are talking about people. How obvious. Jim rolls his eyes.

'And I suppose you being locked up at the moment prevents you hunting.'

[cook_the_rude]

"In my world," Hannibal says, "and I haven't found another world where I could do that. I suppose I could ask Yrael to let me deal with the occasional straying assassin."

[just_cant_lose]

'I'm not letting you into mine, so if you were about to start angling, don't. Besides, Sherlock would catch you.'

Serial killers are something of a specialty with him, particularly ones with such signature flair as Hannibal Lecter.

'I can't imagine Yrael would mind letting you loose on the general populace, as long as you didn't mess up his situation.'

[cook_the_rude]

"There are probably some well-nourished and nicely exercised KKK members there which nobody will miss," Hannibal muses.

[just_cant_lose]

'You prefer them to be in shape?'

This is interesting. The mindset of a cannibal.

'Does it really make a difference?'