Hannibal's house, Saturday afternoon

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal wasn't helping with the spell; he was certain there were enough others to handle that. He was taking advantage of Bob while he had him.

Yesterday and today, their free time had been evenly spent between food and music and experiences and placing the most powerful wards possible throughout Hannibal's house. Not to mention one or two on him, and that amulet for Jono.

Bob, to his credit, kept going even when he could feel the extra strength he'd been given start to fade away and the pull back to his skull begin. He sighed and set the last rune, pushing to complete it, then all but stumbled out of Hannibal's body.


[OOC: Bob's goodbye here, since it got a bit long, but open post is open!]

Comments

[sharp_as_knives]

"Nothing I can think of off-hand, but you can listen to the podcasts of the news later. I hadn't known that until one of my students mentioned it. It came in very handy when I wasn't living here. Make a fist as best you can."

Hannibal checked his fingers and blood flow. "Any problems with sensation?"

[vdistinctive]

Eliot nodded. So he hadn't killed anyone this time around. Good to know.

"Hurts like a bitch," he said, nose twitching in a wince as he curled his fingers. "But nah, near as I can tell the nerves are okay." Radio was as good a distraction topic as any. "I know gossip's kinda a small town staple, but this place really brings it to another level, huh."

[sharp_as_knives]

"I've certainly never lived anywhere else where squirrels spied on everybody," Hannibal agreed, shaking his head. He finished checking Eliot's hand, nodded, and set a needle into the syringe to start.

[vdistinctive]

"Considered setting out traps when I first found out, but I gather they're pretty good at revenge. Freaking squirrels, man. Who'da thought."

There were a handful of batty old codgers from his home town who would've. But they were batty old codgers.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Until I arrived here, I'd only ever known them to be wonderfully adaptive rodents that my gardeners despised. They certainly never carried notebooks." He cleaned a spot on the inside of Eliot's wrist. "Three small injections," he explained.

[vdistinctive]

"These guys seem more likely to be the scourge of your liquor cabinet than your garden," Eliot said. "You keep all this medical stuff around before you moved here, or is this a Fandom special?" Lord knew on this island, it was damn useful to keep around. Unless you liked the leeches cure.

[sharp_as_knives]

"A bit of both," Hannibal confessed. "I have always kept a very well-stocked kit for emergencies, but I've expanded it a bit since I began teaching here." He gave Eliot a wry grin. "We seem to get a lot more injuries of a much more varied nature here than at Johns Hopkins."

He turned Eliot's wrist over for the last injection and nodded at the newly carved "41" there. "A present from your friend?"

[vdistinctive]

Eliot sighed. He actually hadn't noticed that one, yet. There were enough other cuts and things that it had all sort of run together for him. "It was how he marked his victims. Guess I should be glad he didn't try to put it on my forehead."

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal grimaced. "Charming." Even Johnny's signature was unoriginal. And his handwriting was horrible. "I'll put some ointment and extra padding on it before I wrap your hand." He administered the last injection and set about properly disposing of the needles while he gave the anesthesia a minute.

[vdistinctive]

To be fair, very few people had good handwriting with a utility knife. Hannibal was probably one of them.

"Yeah, guy definitely had charm in spades. Suppose you lucked out on that front."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Apparently so. Bob did have his moments, but at least he wasn't trying to kill everybody." Explanations might have been awkward.

He turned back to Eliot's hand and repositioned it, then started manipulating his thumb back into place.

[vdistinctive]

Eliot's eyebrow crept up a little. This process was much nicer with a local anesthetic. "Those moves with the curtain rod his?"

[sharp_as_knives]

The wonders of modern medicine!

"If I could throw magic around, my life would be much easier," Hannibal offered with a smile. "Also, he probably wouldn't have had to use my curtain rod. No, that was entirely Bob."

That magic part was what you'd meant, right, Eliot?

He left Eliot's hand in a neutral position, thumb all fixed, and started filling the sink with warm water as he reached for the ointment for that number and the other small cuts that would be covered by the plaster.

[vdistinctive]

Modern medicine could be hard to come by when you were avoiding the law.

"Ah. Magic. Right." Magic was definitely what tried to sweep Johnny's feet out from under him.

[sharp_as_knives]

That was the beauty of being a doctor!

Ointment and padding applied, Hannibal started wrapping the plaster. He glanced up at Eliot questioningly at his tone. "Ah, you meant apart from the magic?" He thought about it for a moment as he smoothed the plaster. "I'm sure my medical knowledge may have helped, and my sense of balance, but I'm not exactly a fighter." He huffed in laughter. "Is there a martial art that teaches curtain-rod techniques?"

[vdistinctive]

"Yeah, you've said that before." But most people who 'weren't fighters' weren't quite as good at fighting as Hannibal seemed to be. "Ain't exactly weighted properly, but by way of improvised bo or quarterstaves, you could do worse. You got some moves."

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal shrugged. "My moves mostly involve getting out of the way. And a bit of dance; I suppose that might help. And Jono," he nodded toward the other room, "and I have been spending some time at an orphanage; the children and I have both been learning some self-defense from him."

He eyed Eliot in amusement. "And unless it's an emergency, I'll thank you not to come grabbing my curtain rods."

[vdistinctive]

Eliot snorted a laugh at that. "Never know when you're going to have to fight with one," he said. "Maybe you should bring it to your self-defense class."

[sharp_as_knives]

"I'd rather leave it to hold up the curtains, thank you," Hannibal answered, smiling and shaking his head. He smoothed the last of the plaster down and stepped back to strip off his gloves.

"If you need to remove this too soon," he said, "soak it a bit first to soften. Then, you see this?" He pointed out a small ridge of gauze that trailed halfway down the cast. "Cut here with scissors or a knife and it will come apart. You should at least be able to get it off without further injury. But try not to have to, please."

[vdistinctive]

"I always try," Eliot said. It wasn't as though he enjoyed having to get into fights.

. . . Well, okay, actually yeah. He really did. But he wasn't out to prolong the healing period at all.

"Thanks, Doc. I owe ya." He said it lightly, but he didn't take it that way. The sooner he managed to pay that off, the better.

[sharp_as_knives]

As if that was a bad thing!

Hannibal nodded pleasantly. "You're welcome." He packed the plaster away and took out a small tab of pills. "Ibuprofen, 800 milligrams. If you find yourself taking too many, come see me or another doctor."

[vdistinctive]

Eliot slowly straightened up on the stool, preparing to stand. He'd managed to settle in a little too much, so it was something of a process. He held out his unbandaged hand for the pills. "Gotcha. Shouldn't be a problem."

If anything, he'd end up taking too few.

[sharp_as_knives]

Yes, Hannibal was getting that impression, but it warranted saying. He watched Eliot move for a moment, to make sure he would be fine getting home, but the island wasn't that big, after all.

"I suppose I should thank you as well," he said. "If not for you, Johnny Bartlett might have killed many others this week." And Hannibal really was fairly fond of some of them. And didn't want to tip off the rest.

[vdistinctive]

Eliot nodded seriously. "I know his type." And, but for the difference in central motivation, could have possibly ended up his type himself. "I'm just glad I managed to lock him down as long as I did. Last thing this island needs is a serial killer running around."

Mmm. Dramatic irony.