Hannibal's house in Baltimore, Sunday evening

[sharp_as_knives]

The FBI and the local press were scampering about like ants whose hill had been disturbed. Hannibal supposed one presumed-dead agent returned to life, a convicted murderer gone missing, and a nearly convicted insane man proved innocent would do that.

For the moment, though, he'd taken a break from watching the amusing chaos in order to ready one of his guest rooms, stock his beer, and make a hearty and relatively simple - for him - dinner. He was rather looking forward to hearing what Sparkle had thought of the drama workshops.


[OOC: for one, but open for phone or whatnot; NFB due to distance!]

Comments

[myownface]

Hey, nobody had ever accused Sparkle of having sound judgment.

"Put me through my paces?" He smiled faintly, ducking his head. "I mean, I guess I can figure out what fancy parties involve. You'd let me know if I was seriously fucking up, right?"

[sharp_as_knives]

"Have I ever struck you as the type to not speak up?" Hannibal asked. "You did fine at your final last session; I have faith you can become even better." He picked up his beer and toasted him.

[myownface]

Whatever else people could say about the mentor-student relationship between Hannibal and Sparkle, nobody could deny that the man was good for Sparks' self-esteem. He grinned a little, reaching for his own beer and lifting it right back.

"Well," he replied, "I had a good teacher."

There was no way he could have pulled that off otherwise.

[sharp_as_knives]

And because Hannibal was modest and self-effacing...AHAHAHAHAHA.

Hannibal grinned, nodded, and drank.