milliways_bar | (no subject)

Death appears near him.

"Hello, Dr. Lecter," he says quietly.

"Death," Dr. Lecter says. "Good evening. Would you like some gewürztraminer?"

"That would be lovely," he says, "Does it pair well with Thai Curries?"

Why, because that's what he wants.

Hannibal waves at a passing rat.

"That might actually work," he says, "but probably pick the so-called green variety."

"Would you join me?" asks Death, "I would enjoy the company."

"Then let me give them a little specific input," Hannibal says.

"Be my guest," says Death, "I must admit that you humans have more experience with food than I."

It's true, there is a reason he's always eating things, he's found that knowledge and experience are two differing things.

So Hannibal goes to the kitchen to talk specifics, and emerges five minutes later with two small plates and a smile on his face.

"An appetizer."

Half an avocado each, filled with what looks like shrimp salad.

"To keep with the theme, this is a shrimp salad with a cocktail sauce containing bhut jolokia peppers, lemon grass and ginger. The dosage of the former is quite homeopathic, so fear not."

"Health food for Death?" he asks with a smirk and raised eyebrows, "Perhaps we should play a game of chess after dinner."

Why not? Games are fun.

"Avocados aren't health food," Hannibal says, tutting softly. "I used to treasure them for their material properties long before they were a fad. They provide a unique mouth-feel, and a gentle base for the spiciness of the filling."

Death waits for Hannibal, it is only polite.

Hannibal sits again, raises his glass, drinks a few sips, then takes his spoon to the avocado.

Death sniffs at his wine. The sensation of smell is something that he enjoys. What he's been finding out, recently, is that smell combined with taste in ways he would have never expected. The avocado, ~~can the mun have the recipe?~~, is tasted reverently.

"That is actually quite good," says Death.

"Thank you," Hannibal says politely.

"You're welcome," says Death eating more of hos food.

Ganymede spots Hannibal and comes over, bearing a slim box tied with a simple gold ribbon. He holds it out wordlessly, sitting beside the man. There's no holiday, but then, Ganymede doesn't seem to need one to give people things.

Ask Javert.

"Why, thank you!" Hannibal says. "Hello, Ganymede!"

He leans over to kiss Ganymede's lips.

"Hello, Hannibal," Ganymede murmurs after breaking that kiss: he crooks a little smile at the man.

"You seemed lonely." Not really, because he knows Sinric won't be far away, but it's as good an excuse as any.

"I was," Hannibal says, "but luckily, no longer."

He opens his box.

Inside there's a sort of flute, made of bone and inlaid with dark wood and ancient glass bits in a delicate banded pattern. "I know you like beautiful things, and you are quite a good musician," he says.

"The two seemed to fit together in this."

"It is breathtaking, and very fitting," Hannibal says, turning the small flute in his hands.

"My hope is that you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoy mine," he says.

Someone - no telling who - sets a small plate of cranberry-walnut-dark chocolate cookies on the end table next to Dr. Lecter's chair.

Young Rae has no clue if they pair well with wine, but as an autumn-flavored distraction she'd rate them quite highly.

Dr. Lecter tries one, smiles almost beatifically, and turns around to look for the generous donor.

There is a small Sunshine at a table a little ways away. She has her own little plate of cookies, a pencil and a small notepad with a half-formed list of things, as well as a beaming smile she is absolutely failing to conceal.

Really, a person's first bite of something she'd had a hand in making is her absolute favorite moment, especially when she likes that particular person, and her face conceals nothing of how much she enjoys it.

Better fess up. "Hello, Dr. Lecter!"

"Hello, Rae!" Dr. Lecter says. "These are absolutely delightful. THank you very much!"

If anything, her smile brightens even further. "You're very welcome! I'm glad you liked them. They taste like fall."

A time of brisk winds and crisp leave, of warmth and cold at odds with one another, and sweetness and tartness and bitterness together.

"They really do," Dr. Lecter says. "You captured the season very well."

Rae beams, pleased. "I'm glad how well they turned out - Ivanhoe helped supervise."

The supervision of adult kitchen rats totally counts as adult supervision.

"The rest of the cookies are being kept for the Scouts' Halloween party, in case anyone gets tired of candy."

But of course, as chef, she had to taste-test them. For quality assurance purposes. >_>

"The scouts are very lucky, then," Dr. Lecter says. "What are they having for candy?"

"There'll be chocolate spiders as prizes for the sticky spider-web toss game, and gummy worms from the poke-a-pumpkin, and there'll be a bobbing-for-marshmallows, and probably lots of other kinds of candy to be gotten from the piñata. Bonnie made toffee apples the other day, and I think she was planning on making pie, too."

"Did you make rocky road or flapjacks as well?" Hannibal asks. "They are quite nice. I've often made them to give out to trick-or-treaters at my door in Baltimore."

There is a look of incomprehension from the girl, who for a moment has the mental image of Dr. Lecter giving out ice cream and pancakes to the befuddlement of the trick-or-treaters.

"I don't know how to make those, I don't think," she says, instead.

"Then I should teach you," Dr. Lecter says. "I learned them from a friend who lives in London, so they might be a British speciality -- dark and gooey, with treacle, very fitting and crunchy."

"Oh!" The confusion clears, and she gives a slight giggle at her misinterpretation. "I'd... only ever heard of rocky road as a kind of ice cream. And some people call pancakes flapjacks. I was wondering what the trick or treaters thought..."

"That is was tasty and different," Dr. Lecter says, smiling.

"I know you didn't really give them ice cream and pancakes," she says, eyeing him with a slight smile. "I just didn't know what else you could be meaning."

And if anyone could get away with it, it'd be him.

"The gooey, crunchy versions sound a lot less likely to melt or get soggy."

"I really do have to teach you," Dr. Lecter says. "You can take them to the scouts' party as well."

"Yes, please!" she grins at him.

Like she'd ever turn down the opportunity to learn how to make something new and sweet and delicious.

"Do you have plans for Halloween?"

"None," Dr. Lecter says, finishing his wine and getting up. "I had an idea, but it fell through. It was quite spooky, and I might still do it next year, so don't ask. No spoilers. To the kitchen, Rae! Let's get the flapjacks on this rocky road."

Edited 2017-10-31 18:55 (UTC)

"What? 'I've got a spooky plan but I'll not tell you anything about it for at least a year'?" She is aghast, sir. Absolutely aghast. Don't be fooled by the grin. "That's so mean."

She kind of approves. Even if she has to suffer not knowing. The anticipation's half the fun.

Rae goes with Dr. Lecter to the kitchen, intent on learning these new iterations of familiarly-named foods.

Edited 2017-10-31 20:04 (UTC)

Dr. Lecter has a recipe box stowed under one of the counters, which he gets out and fishes a card from, which he hands to Rae.

"So, we start with syrup, chocolate and butter for the tar," he says.

Edited 2017-10-31 20:19 (UTC)

Rae reads through the recipe completely before nodding and going to fetch ingredients. She knows where just about everything is kept by now.

"Do we melt the butter into the golden syrup first before adding the chocolate, or just put it in all together to let it melt all at the same time? Or does it matter which way?"

"I usually melt butter, then syrup, then chocolate," Dr. Lecter says. "That way, it won't burn easily."