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]

It was late evening when Jono came stumbling to the door, looking a little worse for the wear. There were dark circles under his eyes - more than usual at least, and his bandages were... somewhere. Not here.

Somebody else could have bandages, sure.

But, at least, the ghost was off doing... terrible ghost things, somewhere. Jono was going to take full advantage of that while he could.

Full advantage, yes sir. By slumping up against the door frame and jabbing at the bell with one finger.

[sharp_as_knives]

Yes, well I don't care what you say, Bob was arguing, that electronic thing is not music.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes in what would've been a glare if he'd had anyone to glare at. "Theremin has a respected and growing corpus of -"

Interrupted by the doorbell, he stood and turned the instrument off.

Are we expecting anybody? Bob asked as Hannibal headed for the door.

"I am not," Hannibal answered firmly, hoping the ghost would at least have the decency not to make him look like an idiot arguing with himself in front of anyone else.

With an uncomplimentary mutter about idiocy and plaid, Bob subsided warily for the moment.

Hannibal opened the door. "Jono?" He frowned and grabbed him to hold him up and help him in, dismissing Bob's concern about the flames; he'd figure out soon enough that they were normal and benign. "Come, sit down."

[furnaceface]

Jono nodded, leaning heavily against Hannibal. Support. Support was good. He'd just-- this. Make his way inside, and bask in the sanity for a bit.

//'M on a curfew,// he muttered. //Bastard's decided he'll have better luck with the local ladies with his own hideous face and he's leaving me t'my own for a bit...//

That was a surprisingly coherent thought, right there. Go team Jon!

[sharp_as_knives]

"Curfew?" Hannibal frowned. "Which bastard?"

Difficult to tell around his fascinating aura, but one of my less savory compatriots seems to have laid claim to him, Bob offered.

[furnaceface]

Jono's aura, on a good day, was a bit like a sprawling expanse of technicolour vomit. Today it was a little dimmer, and something like a sickly green-brown.

He was not having a good day.

//... Don't even want to say his name,// he muttered. //S'how I got into this mess, I think...//

[nuclear_snide]

"What do you mean?"

Pardon the professional curiosity, Jono; Hannibal had been momentarily distracted by the bits of image of your aura he was getting from Bob, and the ghost had jumped to the fore.

[furnaceface]

And Jono wouldn't have thought anything of it, if not for the fact that Hannibal suddenly had a British accent. That got Jono to look up with a start, and it was a miracle he didn't fall off his chair.

Especially once he realized that there were two minds at play, right then. By that point his reply wasn't so much a useful answer as it was just a wave of distress followed by a spark of anger.

... And a few actual sparks, for good measure.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Careful!" That from both of them. Bob took the better part of valor, and Hannibal caught Jono carefully. "Please do try not to burn holes in my carpeting." He reached out carefully to set one hand at Jono's neck, half on skin and half in flame, hoping to calm him.

[furnaceface]

//You have one too.// It was the most coherent thought that Jono could piece together, and so he was going to babble it a few more times. //You have one. You've got one of them too.//

He was torn somewhere between clinging and turning to run, which probably resonated with Hannibal just as well as the anger he'd sent before, if only because his hand was right there in the fire that was the very core of his being.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Jono." Hannibal pushed aside his irritation at the lack of coherence. "General."

One way or another, that was likely to at least interrupt this spiral.

[furnaceface]

Jono watched Hannibal in silence, wide-eyed, for a moment.

It was the use of General that started to yank him back to rational thought, and he squared his shoulders slightly, unconsciously, at the sound of it. He couldn't pull in a deep breath, which would have helped a great deal, but he did close his eyes for a moment. Counted to ten in his head.

//... You know I bloody hate being called that.//

Priorities.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Yes," Hannibal agreed, smirking. But it had worked. He rubbed Jono's shoulder soothingly. "Can you tell me what happened?"

[furnaceface]

Jono watched Hannibal in silence for a moment, and then shrugged the shoulder that Hannibal wasn't rubbing, just a bit. His gaze dropped to the floor.

//Was playing guitar,// he said. //Not paying much attention to anything. Cats started acting weird... And then I read something off th'wall and I wasn't the only one at home in here.//

He followed that with a shudder.

//I think he's stronger without me, to be honest. I'm just a new favourite toy.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal's eyes narrowed at that; his friends were nobody's toys. Except his.

"Read it off the wall?" Hannibal prompted. And in a sour mental aside to Bob, I never read anything.

Yes, well, some of us have talent. And aren't nasty enough to require summoning.

[nuclear_snide]

And some of the things that did were really very nasty. Bob prodded Hannibal to one side, stressing the importance of this. It was easier than it had been before, but he ignored that in favour of the matter at hand. "What was it - a spell, a name, an incantation? Could you write it down if we gave you paper?"

If I did, you mean, Hannibal sniffed disdainfully.

[furnaceface]

Jono looked up quietly, still not completely certain what to make of Bob, there. At least the fact that he seemed to be more or less playing nice with Hannibal helped. Somewhat.

//A... name, I think. I could write it down. S'been bloody difficult to forget, with him rattling around in my head off and on since yesterday.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal shoved Bob back again, though it took more effort than he liked. "Tell me about it." He sighed and gestured at his head. "Jono, meet 'Bob'." Which was at least less of a mouthful than Jono's ghost's name.

He looked around for the nearest paper, but it was in his desk, and he hated to leave Jono when he was like this...

[nuclear_snide]

Allow me? Bob slipped forward again and gestured, using Hannibal's memories of the paper and pens to conjure them from the other room and float them into Jono's lap.

Hannibal raised a mental eyebrow. Well, that must come in handy.

You've no idea.

Bob nodded at the paper. "Write it down. You said it - anything else? Any tracery, or anything in your music?"

[furnaceface]

... Bob?

Jono would take Bob over Betelgeuse any day.

He reached for the paper and pen, not put off at all by the way they floated across the room. Jono was used to keeping company with telekinetics, after all. The Blood did so shamelessly, as did a couple of X-Men.

Betelgeuse Betelgeuse Betelgeuse.

It seemed so harmless, there on the paper. Jono had to stare at it for a moment before handing it over.

//My music changed, right before I read that. But I don't know that the music itself was a part of anything, so much as he's exactly the sort of arrogant bastard who enjoys having his own fanfare to herald his arrival.//

[nuclear_snide]

"Ugh." Bob grimaced, and seeing enough of his thoughts, Hannibal silently agreed. "That mouldy bastard." He'd seen him around the convention and done his best to give him a very wide berth.

Which wasn't difficult, since Bob didn't have breasts. Honestly, that ghost gave leches a bad name.

He twisted his - Hannibal's - lips in thought. "I'm not familiar with his particular rules, but generally things that require summons require similar banishments. Saying their name backwards, for example." He paused for a moment to try to figure out what that would be. "Or simply saying it again; maybe try that before tying your tongue in knots. Or...whatever," he belatedly added, squinting through the flames to try and see if Jono had a tongue.

Yes, Hannibal was mentally thwapping him for being rude, there.

[furnaceface]

Jono was going to look dubiously back and forth between Bob and the piece of paper, now.

//... And if it does the opposite of that and only makes him stronger?//

Jono really had no desire to make Betelgeuse stronger, thanks. He'd already thrown down against Raven without benefit of a body (and had been gloating about it to Jono since), and Jonothon shuddered to think what else he was capable of from there.

[nuclear_snide]

"Names don't grant power, names are power," Bob explained, going into instructor mode. "Knowing a thing can grant you power over it. For those beings who wrap their existence around a name, it can give them power as well - just until someone else learns it, as witness the poor unfortunate Rumplestiltskin."

Bob stood and took a step back, drawing glyphs in the air in front of Jono. "In this instance, it seems as though the name..." another glyph, "created...ah, there we are." A glowing...something...in a nasty colour faded into existence above Jono. "Created an opening. You need to take back that power in order to close it."

Fortunately, Bob worked entirely differently.

Hannibal scowled and shoved him aside, resulting in a startled squawk and all the glyphs shivering for a moment before holding steady.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal stepped carefully around the glowing runes and eyed the nasty one over Jono, not needing Bob's warning to avoid touching it.

"He seems fairly certain about it," he told Jono, squeezing his shoulder. "If it's that or do nothing, is there anything to lose by trying?"

[furnaceface]

//Seems too easy,// Jono muttered, looking at the runes quietly before shrugging his shoulders a bit. //I'm not terribly inclined to trust 'easy.'//

That was okay, Jono. Betelgeuse wasn't going to let anybody get those three words out without a fight.

//... Should I just say it now and get it over with?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Easy enough to try, and move on if it doesn't work," Hannibal pointed out.