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 appreciated that clarification, at least!

//Wouldn't mind somebody staying in here, at least,// he said, after a moment of hesitation. //In case my knees give out or something. I don't entirely trust myself to not crack my head right now.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal nodded and started undressing himself. No, he answered Bob's silent query, it probably wouldn't actually damage him, but it would still hurt.

[furnaceface]

And Jono started pulling his trousers down, leaving them in a heap on the floor along with his boots. The shirt was staying on for the time being, because ha, like he was going to wrestle with that without help.

And then he just sort of oozed his way into the shower.

//I don't remember hot water ever feeling this good,// he muttered.

And he'd been in a lot of situations where hot water afterwards would've been a godsend.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal folded his own clothes neatly, then Jono's, before stepping in to join him. "You've had a rather rough day or two." He shifted Jono slightly to let the water soak his shirt a bit more.

[furnaceface]

//Suppose I have, at that,// Jono allowed, closing his eyes and letting Hannibal manhandle him any which way he needed. //I imagine it'll take more than hot water before I feel less like I've been rolling around in wet garbage, anyway.//

It felt like his brain had been marinated in it. Not his favourite feeling in the world.

//Ugh. He's still in the cellar. I can feel him there.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Pull back," Hannibal advised. "Block out as much as you can that isn't right here." He sluiced the water over Jono's shoulder, tugging lightly on the shirt to see if it would come free yet. "Focus on your body and remembering every part of it as yourself."

[furnaceface]

A slightly wrinkled nose was the only indication that Jono was feeling any pain. He was too stubborn to protest, and, anyway, the pain was still a sort of touchstone. That was his shoulder. His. His pain.

//Right,// he murmured. //Pare it down. S'just you and me...// And Bob. Bob sort of counted. //Whatever else is out there, it doesn't matter...//

Yeah. Okay. He could handle that.

[sharp_as_knives]

Bob very much counted! To Bob, anyway.

"Just us," Hannibal confirmed. "And lovely hot water." He teased the shirt carefully out of Jono's skin.

[furnaceface]

//Nnn. It is nice, innit?//

He rolled his shoulder a little, opening his eyes and watching the grimy, bloody water run down the drain.

//How bad's the damage?//

Pretty bad, between the wound itself and whatever nastiness was in Betelgeuse's mouth.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal pulled the last of the shirt away, ripping it further to get it off - sorry, Jono. "It will need cleaning, and stitching, and probably some rather hefty antibiotics."

He frowned, then held up a hand to ask for a moment.

[nuclear_snide]

"I can heal it," Bob said, prodding it carefully. "But healing takes as much energy from the patient as the healer. In your current condition, you should probably be lying down first."

He eyed the wounds. "And the antibiotics certainly couldn't hurt, either. Who knows what might be lurking in that thing's mouth." He gave a theatrical shudder.

[furnaceface]

//What I'm lacking in coherent thought right now, I make up for in raw energy,// Jono noted, brow furrowed at the sting left behind after Hannibal's gentle removal of the last of the shirt. //I'll take any antibiotic you're willing to throw at it, though. Just so long as it comes in ointment form.//

For obvious reasons.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Injectable, I was thinking," Hannibal said. He washed the wounds a bit more with one hand, while his other smoothed over Jono's back and shoulders. There was nothing sexual to it (sorry, Bob), just contact and affirmation.

"We'll stay here as long as you like first, though."

[furnaceface]

//... So, forever, then.//

Really, he'd never be clean again. Ever. And this was nice, and he didn't have to think about whatever else was out there...

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal chuckled. "For as long as you like, or until I become a prune, one of us has our legs go out, or the hot water is gone. Whichever comes first."

[furnaceface]

//That'll do, too...//

Jono was pretty easy to please, at this point.

//My legs give out first, I'll be just as happy sitting in the tub, though.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"You'll probably want this looked at before you sit for too long," Hannibal said, but he didn't push. He held Jono close, his fingers playing idly through the edges of his flames while his hands stroked skin, doing his best to ground him in both parts of himself.

[furnaceface]

//Probably,// Jono allowed, closing his eyes and leaning, a little. //Maybe I won't aim for forever, then.//

He still couldn't quite put to words how soothing that was, the way Hannibal fearlessly embraced either aspect of what he was made of. He'd known people who were obsessed with the fire, to the point where they barely acknowledged that it was part of a person, and even more still were afraid of the flames. None had ever really been so bold as to run their fingers through it the same way somebody would smooth down somebody's hair, as a gesture meant to soothe and reassure.

He appreciated that gesture, in a way he couldn't quite put words to. So he did the next best thing, and sent Hannibal a brush of thanks, a weird combination of warmth and vulnerability and a hint of the comfort that he was feeling, that, hopefully, he'd managed to send to Hannibal alone.

... He kind of didn't want Bob in on that one.

[sharp_as_knives]

Contrary to appearances, Bob really could be tactful and quiet, so while he might have caught the edges of that, he politely ignored it.

Hannibal just smiled and hummed in appreciation.