Hannibal's house, Friday before prom

[sharp_as_knives]

Prom was no doubt very serious business for the students involved; for Hannibal, it meant he'd had an excuse to do a bit of clothes shopping, freshen his haircut and manicure, and so forth. Not that he actually needed one.

He had a bit of classical playing as he got ready; he was going with a classic grey tuxedo with a somewhat more flamboyant vest. The light color and hint of brocade should go very nicely with the other formalwear he'd purchased. Jono didn't seem to have found it yet, but he would when he came in the bedroom - the garment bag was hung prominently on the bedpost with a bow and his name on it.

Hannibal was trying not to smirk too widely.

Comments

[furnaceface]

//... Roughly a thousand,// Jono replied, squinting thoughtfully. //Glacia's aristos are bloody insufferable.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"You've many more of these to look forward to, then." Hannibal grinned. "I'll have to start actively looking for opportunities to make it that many."

[furnaceface]

//Keep that up, and the people throwing these things will come to dread them more than I currently do,// Jono teased. //Which might be hilarious. Carry on, then.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal laughed. "Plan for it." He slipped on his shoes, which were in the same grey as his jacket and same brocade as his vest. "And once your ready, we can document this. I'll get the camera."

[furnaceface]

//You're taking a photo for posterity? I didn't know chaperoning the prom was so noteworthy,// Jono teased. //Though I suppose we don't usually come this close to matching, do we?//

And again, coattails. Very well tailored coattails.

[sharp_as_knives]

"If I don't take a picture, nobody will believe it happened," Hannibal called back. And then, too far to politely yell, thought loudly back, And Karla would pout and frown.

[furnaceface]

//Yes, well, it's Karla's own fault for not coming to the prom,// Jono decided, seeking out a mirror so that he could look at himself in this getup. He still hated mirrors. But he needed to know.

...

//I'm looking at it right now myself, and even I can hardly believe it's happening. How in the world did you manage to match all of these?//

[sharp_as_knives]

Talent and an eye for fashion, Hannibal thought back, clearly amused. There were black brocade shoes as well, but I thought you might prefer to wear one of your pairs of boots.

Or that he'd have another heart attack over the price of them; Hannibal was already getting heated flooring and a sauna out of him, so he might as well forego new footwear.

[furnaceface]

For the time being, at least. Get him really sold on the idea of dressing up nice, and maybe Jono would embrace his inner fashion aficionado.

//I appreciate that. A few hours on my feet at a school dance doesn't seem like the best time to start breaking in a new pair.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Also true," Hannibal allowed. He fiddled with the camera, setting the delay, then aimed it so it could sit on the dresser. "Are you ready?" He'd have said Jono needed to do his hair, but this was Jono - it was entirely possible he already had.

[furnaceface]

Hey, now! Jono's hair was a work of art! He didn't have much head left, he had to appreciate what was left.

Which he did mostly by vowing to never, ever again wear his hair in a mullet. The nineties were one of his strongest fashion regrets, as a catch-all.

//Ready as I'm going to get, I think,// he agreed. //Let's get this over with.//

[sharp_as_knives]

It was definitely art. Very abstract art.

Hannibal gave him a look, then set the camera and came to join him. "I won't even ask you to say 'cheese', he promised."

[furnaceface]

//Well, good,// Jono replied. //Never was the sort to smile for photos anyway.//

A beat.

//Cheese.//

It literally made zero difference on his face. He could be a brat if he wanted to. Maybe it was endearing or something!

[sharp_as_knives]

Fortunately, it rather was. So at least one of them was smiling - or rather smirking - when the camera went off. "Thank you for that," Hannibal said, going to retrieve it and make sure the photo had come out. "Are you ready to go?"

[furnaceface]

//About as ready as I'm going to be, I suspect. Joni'll be fine here while we're out?//

She wasn't hurting anything. Except maybe Beethoven's dignity, anyway. And he'd recover from that.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Of course," Hannibal answered. "Although she may up sat upon." Or Beethoven would. It depended upon how much of a pushover he was feeling.