Hannibal's house, Tuesday

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal scowled at the still-unfinished floor in his study and brought his tablet into the salon instead. The contractors had hit some sort of snag, and there were still several rooms now with the floors torn up. Hannibal was almost as displeased as Beethoven; the cat was refusing to even come downstairs.

"How many more days?"

Comments

[furnaceface]

//Three, maybe four, he said,// Jono replied, looking thoughtfully at the floor. Joni, at least, seemed to be handling this okay. Of course, Joni fit in his jacket pocket, and was quite at home in there. And really didn't care about the hammering and the weird men, anyway. //That's not so absolutely terrible, is it?//

It was just a few pulled-up floorboards. So they'd miscalculated the amount of time they'd be here. It wasn't a disaster, really, was it?

[sharp_as_knives]

"They were supposed to have finished while we were gone for precisely this reason." It wasn't even the contractor's fault; that didn't mean Hannibal had to be pleased with it. "At least the kitchen and bedroom are finished," he said with a sigh.

[furnaceface]

//The important parts,// Jono agreed, shrugging his shoulders. //If it's too terrible to tolerate for another few days, I can pay for a hotel room, or we could temporarily relocate above the Boards. I know my own place isn't exactly an improvement on this.//

Well, it might be quieter?

[sharp_as_knives]

"I reserve the right to retreat to the basement," Hannibal answered wryly. "Or have you still got plans down there as well?"

[furnaceface]

//Those can probably wait until after I'm done destroying your main floor,// Jono teased, winking. //At least there isn't sawdust in your kitchen, right?//

Jonothon Starsmore: Mr. Brightside.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Thank heavens for small favors," Hannibal shot back. "You do realize that by the time these floors are done, it will be well and truly too warm to appreciate them?"

[furnaceface]

//Well, I could tell them to stop now and go back home, they've been here entirely too long...//

And leave the floors as they were!

Or, rather, weren't...

[sharp_as_knives]

"Try it, and I'm using you for planking," Hannibal threatened.

[furnaceface]

//Sounds like a fun way to spend the evening,// Jono shot back, shamelessly.

Honestly, Hannibal. He got off on this.

//So, they're in your personal space a little longer than we'd intended. Next autumn, your floors will be delightful, and there'll be a sauna to retreat into, and all you had to do was step around contractors for a few extra days. That doesn't seem like such a terrible deal, really.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "When did you become an optimist?" That was not a complaint.

[furnaceface]

//Probably about the same time you started sulking,// Jono replied. //Thus restoring balance to the universe. Or. Something like that, anyway.//

Jono's optimism was a dish best served bratty, generally.

[sharp_as_knives]

"I am hardly sulking," Hannibal said. "I'm simply registering my displeasure at an unpleasant state of affairs."

Which was slightly ameliorated by Jono's brattiness, actually.

[furnaceface]

See? Balance! Restored.

Jono was good at this.

//Well, then let's get out of the unpleasant situation,// he suggested, nodding toward the stairs. //Go make music or read or something that involves less lumber sitting across your floor.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal checked the level of light outside. "Sit on the porch with the cats? I have a lovely recipe for a sort of grilled strawberry shortcake."

[furnaceface]

Jono glanced at the window, and then nodded.

//You get what you need from the kitchen, I'll hunt down the old man, then? It's a good day to be outside, and you're right, the cats should be appreciating it, too.//

... Not that Beethoven ever appreciated anything.

[sharp_as_knives]

Beethoven appreciated all kinds of things! Mostly sleeping on Hannibal's feet and eating Hannibal's food, granted.

Hannibal chuckled as he headed to the kitchen. "Good luck."

[furnaceface]

//I'll need it,// Jono mused, peering up the stairs. //Odds that I'm going to need to crawl under the bed and drag him out, you suppose?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"It depends on whether Joni followed him," Hannibal answered with a chuckle.

[furnaceface]

//... Under the bed it is, then.//

Because, let's be real. Joni always followed him. It was like a tiny girl cat crush or something.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal chuckled and went into the kitchen to get the ingredients. He set them out on a tray and moved it back to the porch, then got started setting up the grill.

[furnaceface]

It was a few minutes later that Jono made his way out, with Joni peering out of his jacket pocket, and Beethoven sort of unceremoniously draped over the opposite shoulder, old man cat claws dug deep into the leather of his jacket.

//Beethoven was under the bed.//

In case that was even remotely in doubt.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Of course." Hannibal left the grill warming and came to Jono's rescue, coaxing Beethoven off.

[furnaceface]

Jono stayed patiently still while Hannibal extracted the cat from his shoulder, and then took a moment to get Joni out of his pocket to set her down by his feet once that was over with.

She pretty immediately spotted a bug, and started stalking after that.

//So, tell me,// he asked, once he was certain she wasn't going to just tear off down the street, //how exactly does one grill a shortcake?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Very carefully," Hannibal said, smiling. "Also, it helps to make the cake very dense. Which I have." In case there was doubt.

[furnaceface]

The day Jono doubted Hannibal's ability to cook would be the day he lost touch with reality, really.

//Well, this'll be a treat to witness, then,// he decided with a wink. //And to taste once it's done. Strawberries... my secret weakness.//

Well, fruit in general, really. But especially strawberries.