Phoenix Place and a secluded section of beach, Sunday evening

[sharp_as_knives]

So, after yesterday Hannibal had been very curious to taste his new acquisition.


However, he was immediately stymied by the fact that the...meat?...seemed to have no structure. No muscles or texture of any kind. No bones or organs beneath them. He wasn't even certain that it was meat, except for the fact that he wasn't certain what else to call it.

It smelled oddly sweet and interesting enough that he had tried a simple grilling of it.

Hannibal Lecter didn't often spit out food, but he had made an exception.

Not wanting to keep anything that could be traced back to him, he'd tried to clean it with acid, but the smell...

So, apart from keeping just a small bit for experiments, he had chosen a remote area of the beach from which to dispose of the remains. Fortunately, it did chop into unrecognizable ... something ... very nicely. If he just dumped a little bit each evening for a few days, nobody would ever be the wiser.

[NFB due to Hannibal being paranoid careful!]

Comments

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal chuckled and spread his hands. "That's all I've brought for this evening, I'm afraid," he told them. "Perhaps I'll see you again tomorrow."

He gave them a little bow and started back for home.

[iceolatedqueen.livejournal.com]

A few of the birds exchanged looks. A few more of them made warbling, honking sounds after Hannibal as he walked away.

A couple more actually started following along behind him in a ridiculous parade of honking, flapping, hungry pinkness.

More?

[sharp_as_knives]

This...was not low-profile.

Hannibal sighed and tried to shoo them back. "I have no more at the moment. See?" He showed them the empty tub.

[iceolatedqueen.livejournal.com]

Pffft. Like flamingos comprehended the concept of empty. At least, not until the bravest of the splintered-off little flock stepped forward and stuck his head right inside the tub, making a hollow sort of thump-tappity sound with his beak as he attempted to scrounge for more pink.

This was followed up by a somewhat irritated honk as he straightened up again to look at the pink-bringer.

Honestly, if you were going to bring food to the party, Hannibal, you really should bring enough for everyone.

[sharp_as_knives]

He supposed he should be glad they enjoyed it. He might even be able to get rid of it all at once.

"I don't suppose you understand the concept of silence," he said to the birds. Not that he expected them to understand, but this was Fandom; you never knew.

He turned and headed for home, hoping that all - or maybe at least most - of them would give up if he ignored them long enough.

[iceolatedqueen.livejournal.com]

Oh, Hannibal, you dreamed so big. But really, in the end, these flamingos were just everyday, normal flamingos. They lounged around in the water. They ate, they shat, they flapped their wings. And they knew a meal ticket when they saw one.

A few more wandered away when it became apparent that no more food was forthcoming. But the handful that had managed to actually eat the pink-bits were bound and determined to have more.

And so, no, they weren't going to give up so easily. Give them more pink or give them death!

Preferably not the death part, please.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal had a very good recipe for flamingo tongue. It was more and more tempting.

Still, they did quiet down as a few of them left. He was mostly left with inquisitive honks and increasingly bold faces near him as they neared Phoenix Place. He still breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him.

[iceolatedqueen.livejournal.com]

And if Hannibal actually thought the birds were going to go anywhere just because he'd gone inside, well, he had another thing coming. These were the few, the strong, the surprisingly patient.

These flamingos were in it for the long haul, Hanni. Better prepare more Pinkie.