Hannibal's house, Thursday

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal	Hannibal had gotten no sleep at all the previous night. At first because of the nagging feeling that someone was watching him - he had very good instincts, and had learned to trust them. And later, because said watcher had finally become too prominent to ignore. And if some damn ghost thought he was giving up his body, he was in for a nasty surprise.
Bob	Bob had over a thousand years of stubbornness on his side, not to mention actual knowledge of magic and possessions. He also had over a thousand years of learned patience, though, and he wasn't above biding his time. And, it turned out, he had no idea how to work half the things in Hannibal's house. (Hannibal? Who named a child "Hannibal" these days?)
Hannibal	It was a respected family name, thank you. And if "Bob" didn't like it, he could damn well leave! Hannibal didn't mind sharing a bit - he did that regularly with Jono, after all - but this was his life, damn it!
Bob	Really? Now, sharing (as a foothold) wasn't a bad thought. Maybe just a day or two, to let a poor, condemned soul experience a bit of life?
Hannibal	Hannibal might be young in comparison to his visitor, but he had hardly been born yesterday. But sharing (as a stopgap to figure out how to get rid of him) was certainly an option.

So yes, eventually they'd come to a bit of an agreement. Or a stalemate, depending how you looked at it. Currently, Hannibal was cooking his lunch and listening to Lucia di Lammermoor and doing his level best to politely ignore his passenger. Bob was enjoying the smells and the music.

Comments

[furnaceface]

Jono's eyes went wide as Hannibal fell, and, while he really wasn't in any position to make the attempt, he was lunging forward to try to catch him anyway, stepping clear through Bob (to hell with every bloody ghost on the island, so far as he was concerned) and managing, at the very least, to get one arm under one of Hannibal's armpits before his legs buckled and he went right down with him.

At least this time, he landed beside him, as opposed to on top or underneath him.

//Christ,// he murmured, ignoring the burning in his shoulder and how bloody dizzy he was feeling, //what the hell did you do? Hannibal, mate? You okay?//

[nuclear_snide]

"I didn't do anything," Bob insisted, giving Jono a grumpy look at being walked through. "The spell I used siphoned energy from your unwelcome guest and funneled it back to me. Apparently it boosted my presence even further, and started pushing his out."

He came to kneel by Hannibal and drew glyphs over him, frowning. "Wake him up. Don't let him slip any further." Oh, what had he been thinking?

[furnaceface]

//No shite,// Jono muttered, giving Hannibal a shake by the shoulders and a little psionic nudge, trying to push Hannibal's consciousness back to the fore. //C'mon, mate. Wake up. Th'floor's a terrible place to nap, you can do better than that.//

One might think it would be difficult for a man on fire to manage a cold shoulder. Jono, somehow, had it all figured out. Sorry, Bob.

[sharp_as_knives]

Bob would survive. So to speak.

Hannibal slowly swam up out of blackness and became aware of being shaken. He opened his eyes blearily and raised a hand to shield his eyes from a bit of the light. "Jono." Something about...He closed his eyes and focused. The ghost!

He opened his eyes again and looked around, catching no sight (or smell) of Jono's problem ghost. But over Jono's shoulder was another man, smartly (if conservatively) dressed and looking rather worried. "Who -?"

[nuclear_snide]

Bob grimaced. "It would seem my bit of spellcasting had a rather unexpected side effect, and strengthened me at your expense. I hadn't thought to account for that; after all, I've never done it outside of my own body before. Nor has any other wizard I'm aware of."

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal blinked and looked him over. "Well, at least my ghost is better groomed." Because that was the important thing here, right?

[furnaceface]

That got Hannibal a momentary deadpan from Jono before he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and shook his head.

//And you'll obviously be fine,// he muttered, leaning back and shifting his weight around so that he could sit, quite heavily, on the floor. //Like attracts like, and all that.//

Bob was not the ghost Hannibal needed, but he was he ghost Hannibal deserved.

Jono was wisely not speaking to what that meant about himself, all things considered.

[nuclear_snide]

It was Bob that answered that, as Hannibal pushed himself to sit and started straightening his clothes.

"Not likely. Well, yes, in my case, I mean - I found someone I thought I might enjoy a bit of cultured time and surroundings with." With, as, same difference, right? "But as for your bug-juice there, he probably seeded his name all around town and just waited for the first person unlucky enough to read it. Which you accomplished by virtue of the fact that thinking it and saying it are one and the same for you."

[furnaceface]

//Lucky me,// Jono muttered, reaching up and rubbing at his shoulder. For a ghost, Betelgeuse had certainly done quite the number, there. //Not that he needs a body to be a pain in the behind, at any rate. Those teeth of his were tangible enough.//

Jono went through more leather coats this way...

He shuddered a little.

//I'm going to have to shower for a month just to get the crawling feeling t'stop.//

[nuclear_snide]

"Lucky bastard," Bob muttered. Then he twisted his lips in thought. "I could help with that, you know," he said, nodding at Jono's shoulder.

[furnaceface]

Well, that actually earned Bob a glance and a raised eyebrow, there. Good job, Bob!

//Can you, now?//

[nuclear_snide]

"Now? No," Bob admitted. "It's...rather part and partial of my condition." He waved his hand through the nearest chair. "Unlike our nasty friend in there, I can't affect the natural world on my own. Not without a body."

[furnaceface]

That eyebrow wasn't going anywhere but right up under Jon's fringe, where apparently it belonged.

//It hasn't been minutes since you almost killed my friend here,// he noted, idly, //and you're already hinting toward wanting to possess somebody again.//

Just saying, Bob. You might have a problem.

[nuclear_snide]

Well, yes; it was called "being dead". He'd have thought that much was obvious.

"I'm sorry," Bob said sincerely. "I didn't realise the spell would have that effect." But he'd been meaning to take over Hannibal anyway, hadn't he? He deflated a bit further. "It's been well over one thousand years since I've felt anything. Since I've been able to interact with the world around me or do real magic." And you thought you were touch-starved, Jono? "I wasn't thinking very clearly on the subject."

[sharp_as_knives]

"And what's to make us believe you're thinking any more clearly now?" Hannibal asked, eyeing him.

[furnaceface]

//Timing is a bit suspect, mate,// Jono intoned, not taking his eyes off of Bob, either. //Hannibal's just managed to sit up on his own again, and all.//

[nuclear_snide]

"I'm standing here now, aren't I?" Bob spread his hands. "I didn't stay in there. And I could have. But the truth is..." He sighed. "Someone whose opinion I value rather highly would never forgive me if I did that." Bloody nuisance Harry Dresden.

"You've got a ghost problem here." He looked Jono in the eye. "Your guest may have been one of the nastier ones about lately, but he's far from the only one. I can help you, but I need a body in order to do that." He turned to Hannibal. "Let me back in - voluntarily - and I'll help for as long as it takes, and I'll leave when it's over. Just, please, let me be and do and feel for as long as it does take."

[furnaceface]

Jono glanced between Bob and Hannibal at that, and then just shook his head and set some of his attention to peeling his way out of his coat before his bloodied shoulder could start to heal into it. Because he didn't need more hugely unpleasant experiences today, thank you.

//This one's between you two,// he noted, glancing at Hannibal. //You don't need to ask me to know I'm not a fan of the idea. But then, I'm not a fan of anything, dangerous or not, that takes away a person's control.//

... Jono wasn't a fan of himself very often these days, either. Less, in fact, than usual.

[sharp_as_knives]

"He hasn't mostly been in control," Hannibal admitted, watching Bob. "It's been rather like a noisy version of you in my head, sharing every sensation. And critiquing my music," he added with a quirk of his lips that Bob mirrored. "And he's right that there are things that he could help with."

He eyed Bob closely, thinking.

"I remain in control, unless you ask first or it's an emergency, and you relinquish it as soon as is feasible. You do nothing to jeopardize my life or my friends." Like telling them things they had no need to know, Bob. "You do your best to help us in any way possible. You leave when this is over with."

[nuclear_snide]

"Agreed," Bob answered without hesitation. "And should any part of that become a problem, or should I attempt to break my word," he wrote a phone number in the air in glowing runes. "Call Harry Dresden, in Chicago. Well, a Chicago. He's my friend and my caretaker." He frowned. "My owner, if you wish to be technical."

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal committed the number to memory, eyed Bob a moment longer, and then nodded and held out his hand.

Bob reached out, grasped it, and melted into/over/through him.

Hannibal shuddered. Then stretched, straightened up, and rubbed his face. "If we could have no more of this sort of thing tonight, I for one am ready to sleep."

[furnaceface]

//I could do that for about a month,// Jono admitted, eyeing Hanni...Bob? warily for a moment before shrugging his shoulder a little. //I ought to at least clean up first, though. Do you, er, mind if I use your shower?//

As appealing as the prospect of stumbling home with one arm covered in blood, barely able to stand on his own two feet was... Maybe, just this one time, he had better not. Betelgeuse might be mostly harmless now, but a few minutes ago, he had very much not been, and a he'd happened to have a mouth full of four-inch nails to go along with all of that nasty language and mould.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Of course not." Hannibal reached to help him up. "Would you like company?"

He sighed. "Bob."

Eleven hundred years!

"The impulse to offer was mine, the lack of tact was his," Hannibal explained to Jono.

[furnaceface]

//Figured,// Jono replied, a touch wryly, as he accepted Hannibal's help. //Your accents are different.//

A beat.

//And, yes, that tact thing, too.// Hannibal had plenty of it! Bob... not so much. //Not terribly certain what he thinks he's going to get at this point. I can barely stand up without my legs buckling, and I'm not all that inclined to get up close and personal with ghosts who are wearing my best friends as meatsuits anyway.//

[nuclear_snide]

Bob could be incredibly tactful! When he wanted to. Which, granted, wasn't often.

"Isn't that a pleasant image. I prefer 'gracious host'. And after eleven hundred years, I'm inclined to take whatever I can get. Men aren't even really my thing, but if the two of you -"