Hannibal's house, Saturday morning

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal was having a leisurely morning at home, blissfully unaware that anyone else had the wrong parts. He had plans to coordinate, laundry to do (the bits that weren't dry-clean only), and flamingos to kick feed when no one was looking.

A nice, relaxing day at home.


[expecting one, but open!]

Comments

[furnaceface]

Ha, as if he was going to get a Saturday all by himself. Day at home? What fun was that, right? Especially when Jono was showing up at his door with a backpack full of stage makeup and tattered clothes, looking... mildly twitchy, actually.

Knock knock, Hannibal!

[sharp_as_knives]

Fortunately, there was always time in his schedule for friends.

Hannibal opened the door and smiled, eyeing the backpack curiously. "Jono. Please, come in; have you brought more music for me?" Not that anything about Jono's demeanor said "music date", but hopefully it would get him talking.

[furnaceface]

//Actually, there is some music in there,// Jono replied, as he slipped inside, //but then, there always is.//

Because Jono.

//But actually, mostly it's makeup. I stopped by the island to plunder th'Boards today, and managed that much. Now I've got an hour t'kill before my portal to New Gotham and all th'ladies of the island are bloody nuts today and I would kill for a distraction.// A beat. //Er, if you don't mind. Hullo.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Hello." Hannibal chuckled after that litany. "What is the makeup for, if you don't mind my asking, and why are all the island's women 'bloody nuts' today?"

[furnaceface]

//Makeup's for a zombie walk in New Gotham,// Jono explained. //Actually, it'll likely be good fun. Painting one another up as zombies, shambling about. It's a fundraiser, you know. Feed th'hungry, all that.//

He reached into his bag after a brief rummage and pulled out a container of cold cream.

//Huh.// Probably important for something or other. He shrugged and stuffed it back into the bag. //Oh, right. And the women are all men today. I've got a bloody chorus of 'lord-I-have-a-cock' rattling around in my brain and I'm half ready to throttle my head against a wall. It's difficult to focus on much of anything at th'moment.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"One of those weekends, is it?" Hannibal shook his head, amused. He briefly wondered if Ms Adler would need a good tailor.

"How are zombies supposed to feed the hungry?" he asked.

[furnaceface]

//Food bank donation,// Jono explained. //The entry fee is some canned food - ah!// He held up a can of... spaghetti. Don't judge him too hard, Hannibal. //Er. I have tuna in there, too.//

Look, he didn't grocery shop for anything besides cat food often.

//Worthy cause, you know? That, and... zombies.//

It was October. Jono got a little excited about horror stuff in October. Could you tell, Hanni?

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal didn't grocery-shop often, either, Jono, but you were still getting judged pretty hard for that. Fortunately, he liked you. "I probably have some goods I can contribute. I confess I don't entirely see the appeal of zombies, but the fundraisers I attend are probably not to the taste of many, either." Or the pocketbooks.

And yes, he was getting a feeling you were a bit excited, Jono. He'd be polite and not tell you how adorable it was.

[furnaceface]

Look, sometimes people just wanted to eat regurgitated spaghetti paste. Jono wasn't going to judge them, either. He kind of missed Spaghetti-Os.

//There's a whole psychological aspect to zombies,// Jono replied, happy to cling to that subject for a moment. It kept him distracted from the frantic reactions of the ladies around the island, after all. //The fear of loss of self, loss of control, of the familiar suddenly becoming this mindless, ravening thing. They're not pleasant by any means, but they're bloody horrifying in the proper context. It's not like a movie werewolf or a vampire - animal instinct or immortal sex appeal respectively. It's other. So completely unlike us, while still looking like us at a glance. It's never one zombie. It's hundreds. Thousands. It's the collapse of civilization, of every achievement that made humanity great. It's a whole world reduced to a swarm, full of people you knew giving the same glassy-eyed stare as every other stranger stumbling along beside them, reaching for you and seeing only meat, if they can comprehend even that much, if they're more than just corpses running on autopilot...//

The trouble with not having lungs was that he didn't need to stop to breathe.

//They're humanity's fear of being lost in the crowd, with nothing really unique about them that sets them apart from the rest.//

A beat.

//And an excuse to dress up in gory make-up and donate to charity. You ought to come along. It could be fun.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Fortunately, Hannibal was fluent in both cultural analysis and psychobabble, so he followed it all. And tried not to be too amused at the idea of people being meat.

He chuckled. "And now we come to the true appeal. Dressing up and helping out." He eyed Jono. "What sort of gore did you have in mind? I've plenty of bandages and such."

[furnaceface]

//Probably nothing too graphic, since I think it's a family event,// Jono replied with a shrug of his shoulders. //I'll want something to account for the obvious, though, or even something that takes advantage of it somehow. Mussed hair, a little fake blood...//

He was not exactly one of the great artistic minds of this century, but he did at least have a vague idea of what was frightening.

//... More scarred than usual? Paler? The more I talk about it, the more I start to wonder if I could've gotten away with just not having a shower or fixing my hair after falling out of bed this morning.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"That would have involved less effort, but the effort is part of the fun, isn't it?" Hannibal asked with a smile. "We can cover your wrappings with gauze bandages, if that wouldn't be too much a mummy and not enough a zombie." Hannibal was only vaguely acquainted with modern horror movies.

[furnaceface]

//I'm fairly doomed to 'mummy' no matter how you look at it,// Jono replied, shrugging his shoulders. //If I keep my jacket along with it, we might be able to get away with 'infected motorcycle trauma patient,' or something of the like, instead.//

Perhaps!

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal huffed in laughter. "I saw plenty of those in the emergency room without benefit of zombies. Would you like some help?"

[furnaceface]

//I'd love some, if you wouldn't mind,// Jono replied, nodding. //I've got a portal leaving within the hour, I'm putting most of my focus into keeping screaming girls out of my head, and the more, the merrier. You can shamble along with us, if you like.//

A beat.

//It'll be fun!//

[sharp_as_knives]

"I'd be happy to help. Let me see what supplies I can find." Hannibal paused. "I may pass on the shambling, though." Really, did he look like the shambling type?

[furnaceface]

That was the beauty of zombies, Hannibal. Everyone was the shambling type. All walking corpses were created equal, and such.

//Fine, fine, no need to stagger down the street with th'rest of us,// Jono replied easily. //You're still welcome to come along and shake your head at the rest of us, if you like.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"I can take pictures." Hannibal grinned; that sounded rather fun, actually.

[furnaceface]

//That would be excellent,// Jono decided. //I'm not certain how many of us zombies are going to have hands to hold a camera with, after all.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal nodded. "Give me a moment; I'll get a few things. And I can carry anything to the end of the walk that you'd rather not get..." what would the verb be, anyway? "...zombied?"

[furnaceface]

//Zombified,// Jono supplied helpfully. //And I would appreciate that, mate. There are only so many things I've got the patience to clean greasepaint from.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Zombified." Hannibal went to gather his first-aid kit. "Could you scour it clean with your flame?" he wondered.

[furnaceface]

//Er... perhaps,// Jono replied, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully. //Though I can't control fires I start after things are burning. And putting out a greasefire is an adventure all on its own.//

Things would burn. So many things would burn. It would end so, so poorly.

[sharp_as_knives]

"So occasionally it's real fire even if you don't mean it to be?" Hannibal asked. He set his kit down and went for those canned goods and some bottled water.

[furnaceface]

//If I'm aiming to scour something, it would be,// Jono replied with a shrug. //It's either concussive, or it's hot, or it's both, but nobody ever got greasepaint out of something by punching at it, did they?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Not by punching, but maybe by brushing," Hannibal answered, a little fond exasperation in his tone. He had no idea if your power worked that way, Jono, but finesse wasn't exactly your first thought, was it?

[furnaceface]

Jono and finesse really hadn't had much time to get to know one another over the years!

//... Oh. Right. Brushing is a thing...//

See? Definitely hadn't been his first thought.

[sharp_as_knives]

What was Hannibal going to do with you, Jono?

...not dirty.