Ye Olde Sunday Multipup Post

[ostro_goth]

 Over the mountains, a thunderstorm is gathering; in an hour or perhaps even just thirty minutes, it might be pouring down. But as yet, people are about, among them:

• Teja, who is wandering the woods and the lakeside looking for canine activity. So far, he has found the traces of a veritable pack and several humans with them, but somehow he suspects that Buster the Inept was not part of that merry outing. Furthermore, he found two dead demonic rabbits, but they were too far gone for him to see if they were killed by a dog. Also, he doubts that Buster would be able to kill these creatures. When it starts raining, he will make his way back to the bar.
• Father Pearse Harman is on the lawn, having afternoon tea complete with scones and cream. He is reading a book with it, and ignoring the weather so far. He is, after all, English.
• Dr. Hannibal Lecter is two tables over, on the lawn as well, with coffee and drawing utensils. He is drawing dogs in sepia pencil.
• Ragnar Lothbrok is in the bar-room itself, ordering things from the bar which he stows into two rather small bags. He has a paper on a table which he looks at from time to time. Apparently, the Viking is planning to leave.
• Lady Margolotta is sitting in a dark corner of the bar, far away from the windows, checking things off in a large ledger. The table around it is covered in papers that look like lists.

Comments

[just_cant_lose]

'...failing to see the appeal all over again.'

That would drive him mental. One of the great things about Sherlock is that he's always in London. He shapes the world around him, he doesn't flit in and out of it.

[cook_the_rude]

"I should be glad," Hannibal says, smirking.

[just_cant_lose]

'Why? Do you think I'd nick him from you if I found him more interesting?'

Nah.

...not that he doesn't think he could, obviously. Jim is nothing if not self-confident.

[cook_the_rude]

"You might realise how much more complex and interesting he is than your Sherlock," Hannibal says. "And then you would probably do something worrisome with hour interest in him."

[just_cant_lose]

Oh, Hannibal. And this was such a nice chilled conversation too.

Jim's face darkens.

'He's got nothing on Sherlock.'

Still, his tone is relaxed enough.

'if you don't see him as complex and interesting, that's your failure.'

[cook_the_rude]

"So we are both happy about who we love, and wouldn't change him for anybody else in the multiverse, warts and all," Hannibal says. "Isn't it grand?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Mm. Suppose so.'

Ugh, it all sounds so ordinary. But...it's not, so there it is. There's nothing ordinary about any of them. It's fine.

'As long as we acknowledge that Sherlock doesn't have any warts.'

He's just trolling now, cheeky grin and all. Because of course he knows that Sherlock isn't perfect.

(He does not.)

[cook_the_rude]

"I acknowledge that I have never examined him for literal warts, yes," Hannibal says, smirking.

Probably trolling as well.

"Also, the Anna Karenina principle probably applies to couples as well, not only families."

[just_cant_lose]

'Yours, maybe.'

So far, he and Sherlock have encountered any number of things that should make their relationship unhappy, but they've all failed to withstand the magnetic pull that keeps them insane about each other.

'Maybe regular couples. But it has very nebulous criteria for what unhappiness is - and anyway, all non-mathematical formulas are bullshit.'

[cook_the_rude]

"How do you define love mathematically?" Hannibal asks.

Probably still trolling.

[just_cant_lose]

'I don't. I don't define it at all. I was speaking about everything, not just that.'

He assumes he's trolling. He's feeling too lazy to rise to engaged conversation anyway. It's very warm out here, and he's had painkillers.

[cook_the_rude]

"Would you like something to drink?" Hannibal offers, because it's that kind of afternoon.

Until the thunderstorm hits.

[just_cant_lose]

'No, thanks. I'm going to go home.'

Sherlock, et cetera. He stands, and stretches his arms to the sky.

'See you, Hannibal.'

[cook_the_rude]

"Have fun," Hannibal says, nodding good-bye.