Phoenix Place, Wednesday evening

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal's throat was nearly healed, just a faint shadow of bruising and a very slight hoarseness left. He was feeling much better overall, thanks to friends who insisted upon doing whatever they could. His wrists were still a mess, but only time would heal that.

More importantly, his kitchen was nearly completed! After far too many false starts and reorders of things, all that was left was the center island counter, which was still bare wood. If he was careful and his knives were sharp (they always were), he could finally manage to cook again.

The dining room was still waiting on paneling, plants, and a table, but he wasn't too proud to eat elsewhere.

So he was sitting on the sofa with his plate on one of the end tables, eating and listening to some of the Rob Dougan that Jono had left for him. It wasn't a bad evening.



[OOC: Open post!]

Comments

[sharp_as_knives]

"I think I can get your vest off myself; may I cut the shirt?" Hannibal asked. Nick's revelation he took in, then cocked his head as he thought about it. "You're referring to the gorgon Medusa. Do you know the story of how Perseus defeated her?"

[gunslingerpose]

"One of the first things I tested once I stopped freaking out and started acknowledging that I was stuck with this, Doc," Nick confirmed. "Looking in a shield won't save you from this. It's a matter of what you can see. Can't see my eyes, you're good. Otherwise? Not worth the risk."

It wasn't a matter of what Nick looked at. It was a matter of what was looking at Nick.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal grimaced. He had been hoping a mirror might help. "Perhaps a camera? Otherwise, I will have to ask you to check yourself in the mirror. I am assuming you are immune to yourself."

[gunslingerpose]

"... Camera might do it," Nick allowed. "Haven't gone waving photos in people's faces, but if I end up knocking you out with a selfie, I probably deserve to sit here with my arm hanging out of joint anyway."

Yes. Yes, that was perfectly sound logic.

[sharp_as_knives]

It worked for Hannibal!

He took out his phone, turned on the camera, and put it in Nick's good hand. "I won't look."

It was probably best he keep his eye on the lidocaine he was injecting into Nick's shoulder, anyway.

[gunslingerpose]

Nick gave a little nod, looking thoughtfully at the phone for a moment before turning his head to face the other way. No sense even risking it, really, after all.

"This is going to go down in history as the shittiest selfie ever," he decided, before shoving his shades up to rest on his forehead and taking a quick photo. A moment later, once he had his eyes covered again, he gave the picture a thoughtful once-over. "Yep."

It was good to know that he'd called it. He set the phone down on the bed while Hannibal worked. On the off chance that his... whatever... his curse extended to pixels (which he doubted), it was probably a good idea to wait until Hannibal didn't have a needle in his arm before potentially stunning him for a moment.

"And I'm not attached to the shirt any. Cut snowflakes out of the damn thing if you want."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Perhaps later, when I'm feeling more artistic," Hannibal answered, deadpan. He put down the needle and picked up the phone. "Not the most photogenic," he admitted, "but a good view of your pupils, thank you. And they seem to be even and responding properly to the light, you will be happy to know."

[gunslingerpose]

"Anything I can walk out of without brain damage," Nick halfheartedly quipped, closing his eyes again and grinning faintly. "Gonna have to remember this for later. The photo thing. You're the first one to see my face without having a nap shortly after in... fuck... a year?"

[sharp_as_knives]

"We see your face every day, only not your eyes," Hannibal pointed out. "Can you see well enough? It must be rather annoying at night."

He chuckled. "You'll want to answer that quickly, or hold the thought for later." He held up another needle. "Morphine."

[gunslingerpose]

"Night's the worst," Nick answered, a little wryly. "It's dark-tinted-dark. Not much in the way of wiggle room, there. But my options are a bit limited, otherwise."

Of course, he'd feel great, if he didn't bother with the shades.

"Shit, you're really giving me the good drugs, here."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Good drugs or bad pain," Hannibal answered as he gave him the injection. "What about glasses with no extra tint, but mirrored?" he suggested.

[gunslingerpose]

Oh yeah. Now the conversation was going to start to get interesting, wasn't it?

"For everyday use? Hell if I know. They're harder to get my hands on, but it isn't like I couldn't if I went chasing down more favors. Guess I figured I'd make damn sure nobody could see through them and went with the tint." A beat. "And that's all they had that was mirrored at the T&C when I limped in with my head down, first day on the island."

That alone had mostly just been a shot in the dark. Nick was damn grateful that it had worked, too.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Wouldn't chasing down those favors to make it easier to see be worth it?" Hannibal asked. Honestly, how did the man read?

[gunslingerpose]

Read? Alone, generally, in a well-lit room. Or a slightly dimmer one. You know, when he was in it for the articles.

"Yes and no. I'm playing the 'sensitive eyes' card back home. I start asking for glasses without a tint, that's the end of that." It was actually a surprisingly reasonable excuse, from where Nick was standing. "... Guess that doesn't matter as much here. Could just announce on the radio I've got death-eyes and people would wonder what the hell it matters. Favors I'm calling in are still from LA, though."

[sharp_as_knives]

"True." Hannibal chuckled. "So find people here and do them favors. Somebody will owe you one in return." He eyed Nick's posture and moved back to his good side. "Turn this way. If you fall over, I'll still need to reach your shoulder."

[gunslingerpose]

"Ha, yeah, wouldn't want to land on that one."

Even if he could probably get stabbed a few times in the face and not actually give a shit, by this point.

"So, do people favors, have 'em owe me. Speakin' from experience, huh?" Nick chuckled a little, turning toward Hannibal. "God, how many favors do I owe you by this point anyway?"

[sharp_as_knives]

"Several at least," Hannibal answered, chuckling in return. "This way, please. And if you're slurring already, I'll start. Let me know if you feel too much pain."

[gunslingerpose]

"Felt too much pain for, unno, somethin' like an hour or two now," Nick pointed out, "Less just do this and get it over with, right?"

Again with the 'rip off the band-aid' mentality. It was really a wonder Nikolai hadn't gotten himself killed yet.

"Gonna have to stay outta Balt'more for a while, hm?"

[sharp_as_knives]

"You'll have your arm in a sling for quite a while," Hannibal noted. "I'll give you the details when you'll remember them."

He put Nick's hand on his shoulder and laid his arm across it, feeling the dislocation with his free hand, and started slowly rotating.

[gunslingerpose]

"... Prolly a good idea," Nick agreed, closing his eyes tight again. "Fuck, I can feel that. S'not bad, s'just there."

It had better be 'just there,' with the amount of drugs that Hannibal had in him, by this point.

"Few weeks, shit, s'a long time to not have to worry about bricks."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Average healing time is ten to twelve weeks," Hannibal advised him. "Assuming there is no nerve damage. The blood supply seems unimpaired."

[gunslingerpose]

"That long?" Nick winced, giving Hannibal a horrified look, then. "Fuck, I can't sit out that long, people will start to think I've been put down or I've retired or something."

Ha, like he'd behave and stay put that long anyway.

[sharp_as_knives]

"You have been put down," Hannibal said firmly. "Rather forcibly, if temporarily. The greatest risk after a dislocation is redislocation. Until the muscles and tendons heal, you are much more likely to have it pop out again." He could feel the bone moving, almost there. "And permanent nerve damage is a real possibility each time."

Nick could feel free to do as he wished, but he wasn't going to be able to argue uninformed stupidity.

[gunslingerpose]

Nick swallowed heavily, swearing under his breath, though if that was because he could feel his bone moving around in ways bones were never meant to, or because he was unhappy about the prospect of being grounded for a few months was anybody's best guess at this point.

"Worst fucking time of year for this," he moaned. "Brick-guy could've waited until, dunno, winter or fucking monsoon season or... hell, the second coming of Christ or something, I wouldv'e been okay with that."

[sharp_as_knives]

"One would hope that his attention would be elsewhere during the second coming," Hannibal answered. "And...there." He folded Nick's arm across his chest and held it there for a moment. "All good?"