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[just_cant_lose]

 
Jim has ventured down only rarely since his birthday, and only then because there's a party on. He is liking Bar's decision to paint his face for the duration! It's fun!

And then he comes to the bar for lunch. His gentle internal wondering of why Sherlock wasn't in bed when he woke up this morning is answered when he's presented with a note.

Jim goes very still. He remains very still for a long time, the paper crumpling evvvvvvvver so slowly in his fingers, creases cracking like ice dropped into water. He's glad of the face paint for a whole different reason, because oh, he's proud of Sherlock, he's proud of him for this, but he's going to fucking kill him as well, and do it properly this time. The game plays on. Yes. Yes, it does, and thank God, because at least this proves they really will never be ordinary.

So he laughs. Loudly, and with a manic edge he doesn't even try to hide. Well done, Sherlock. You even left the note in the bar, rather than somewhere private. Well, then it deserves a public reaction. Jim shuts up and shakes his head, almost fond. He straightens his pristine jacket, and smooths his hair back. 

Then he turns and picks up the nearest chair, swings it over his head and smashes it to pieces on the floor. He smashes it until he's left with nothing but a leg, which spins out from his hand across the room, whipping through the air.

Sorry if it bounces off you? 


[OOC: Birthday link is lots of NSFW, natch. And it's probably obvious, but Jim's a tad erratic in this EP and may be prone to outbursts.)

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"The word is 'warn'," Hannibal says, maybe smiling behind his mask. "So him getting away doesn't change anything?"

[just_cant_lose]

'I don't need you to warn me, Hannibal. Do you think you know him better than I do?'

Also, no, he does not want any pie. He kicks at some remnants of chair, and turns to look at him.

'And no, of course it doesn't. Don't be obvious.'

[cook_the_rude]

"I know the written canon," Hannibal points out. "As does quite a number of people here, I'd assume."

Pause.

"Which you know, or you wouldn't rage like that."

[just_cant_lose]

'Wouldn't I?'

He's angry. Genuinely.

But perhaps not for the reason he's supposed to be.

[cook_the_rude]

"In public, destroying a perfectly innocent if extremely unoriginal chair?" Hannibal says. "People will notice, draw their conclusions, tell their tales."

Which, from the gleeful glow in Hannibal's eyes, will be exactly what Jim wants. Or he wouldn't stage this spectacle.

[just_cant_lose]

'They won't see anything beyond confirming their suspicions. That I'm volatile and unbalanced, et cetera.'

Which he absolutely is. He rolls his head to the side. He's been staging spectacles since he got here, all to show that he's lesser than he really is. This isn't any different.

Apart from the fact that if there weren't a benefit from a public display, he'd go upstairs and break things in private, for different reasons.

'Their conclusions are pointless.'

[cook_the_rude]

"Their conclusions," Hannibal points out, "will go back to Sherlock. Who will draw his own."

Hannibal shrugs, smiling behind his mask as if to express that the game is on again, and he can see a few moves ahead.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim catches his eye with a hint of amusement - yes, of course, there's that - but it really isn't the whole story.

'I can show my displeasure to Sherlock in far more personal terms. I don't need anyone to tell him I'm angry.'

Sherlock will be told. Shown. Taught a lesson, perhaps.

[cook_the_rude]

"But it will of course help."

Amused Hannibal is amused.

[just_cant_lose]

'I'm glad this is so funny to you.'

Yes, fine, it's funny to him too.

It also hurts, a bit, but that's for the private display of anger later.

'Can you take that mask off?'

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal reaches behind his head, then shrugs.

"No," he says. "As I thought."

[just_cant_lose]

It would be a funny costume, if Jim were in the mood to laugh. He shrugs - though talking to someone through half a barrier bothers him - and comes to sit down, finally.

'I suppose you're used to it.'

Whatever. He tries to persuade his fingers to let got of the crushed note, and fails. Fine. He didn't want to read it again anyway.

[cook_the_rude]

"Not this thing," Hannibal says, tapping the mask with a fingertip.

[just_cant_lose]

'Sucks to be you then, darling.'

Jim's happy with his paint. Happier than ever today, when it saves him having to cover the worst of his expression.

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes," Hannibal admits. "It does. At least this Halloween."

[just_cant_lose]

'Hits too close to home?'

He sits back, and tries to stretch the tension out of his muscles. Sherlock's gone. He's really gone, and that's not just going to be unpleasant today, it's going to suck every day.

[cook_the_rude]

"It does," Hannibal admits. "These things are meant to humiliate, after all."

[just_cant_lose]

'And here I thought it was to stop you biting.'

Spitting, whatever. Mainly biting. He remembers that scene from the movie as well as anyone else who's seen it.

'Though it begs the question why you'd make a pie with that across your mouth.'

[cook_the_rude]

"It only materialised on me the moment I came out from the kitchen," Hannibal says. "I suppose I will be able to take it off in the privacy of my own room. With nobody around."

[just_cant_lose]

'Awww, you won't even be allowed company without it?'

He tuts, and shakes his head.

'Halloween's all fun and games until it messes with your sex life.'

[cook_the_rude]

"Yes, it obscures all my best and most useful features," Hannibal says.

[just_cant_lose]

'I don't know if you're being sarcastic, or self-deprecating.'

Interesting what Hannibal values. Jim can't be bothered to consider it.

'I know someone who looks like you. It's weird.'

Possibly he's looking for distractions now, or he might not have mentioned it.

[cook_the_rude]

"That happens," Hannibal says. "Who is it?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Not exactly like you. Not a double. Just something around the eyes, and the cheekbones. Similarities in accent.'

It doesn't mean anything. He thinks it would, if they were from the same world. The likeness would be too telling to be ignored in that case, but like this it's just an anecdote for the sake of something to focus on.

'His name's Magnusson. He's a newspaper man. Owns a few, runs the media, you know of the sort.'

[cook_the_rude]

"What do you do with a media mogul?" Hannibal asks, sounding willing to accept the diversion.