sharp_as_knives | Hannibal (and totally not Jono)'s house, inside and out back, Saturday afternoon and evening

//You know,// Jono said, thoughtfully looking over the food Hannibal had prepared (and still was preparing) for the party they were throwing today, //I think it's possible that there's something here for everyone on the island?//

Literally. Jono suspected that everybody on the island could show up, each make off with the entirety of one of the dishes, and there would still be leftovers after the party.

"I should hope so." Hannibal put the finishing touches on the last few plates he'd have to bring out to the grill. "I don't want anybody saying they left hungry from a party of mine." Or theirs. Whichever. "How is the music coming along?"

//There is definitely music,// Jono reported. //It's… leaning heavily into swing territory. First thing that came to mind when trying to come up with something that everybody could enjoy.//

"Not a bad thing," Hannibal said, smiling. "Although we might have to indulge in a bit of dancing later."

//Heaven forbid,// Jono teased, winking as he thumbed through his playlist one more time. //We'll see if we can get you away from that grill long enough to manage it, hm?//

Hannibal gave him a look of fond reproof. "I would never be so long cooking that I didn't enjoy my own party." He nodded at the food. "Once this is done, I'll only be turning things on here and there, and perhaps manning the bar."

//Well, then I suppose I ought to go put the shrimp out to coax the flamingos off the lawn,// Jono decided. //It's almost that time, anyway.//

"If you can keep them to the side," Hannibal suggested, "they'll be out of the way of anyone coming up from the front as well. Hopefully once everybody is back here, they won't be disturbing them."

How well would that work out? Only time would tell.

[OOC: Open post! Come to the party!]

Current Location: 22 Phoenix Place

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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"Doctor," Drac nodded, smiling. "I am used to being awake at all hours, but being confined to my rooms for so long is tiring, yes."

He bowed slightly and handed over his donation. "From my home cellars. I do hope they are to your taste. The red is a Zaibăr, a traditional yet solid Romanian wine, and the white is a Grasă de Cotnari. Also an old wine; it's a little sweeter than most, but a solid body."

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Hannibal took them with a similar bow. "That's lovely of you; thank you. You didn't need to, but they're welcome. How have you been?"

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Drac chuckled softly. "The wine is both a thank you for the invitation and an apology for having been out of contact so long. I'm doing..."

Drac had no idea how much anyone knew, so he hesitated.

"I'm doing better, thank you."

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Hannibal smiled. "Say as much or as little as you like. I won't judge, and I'll try not to pry, though I am a dreadfully curious man by nature." He gestured at the food. "Would you like to try some of this? Or I've a bit of black pudding in the kitchen, if you'd rather."

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"Black pudding?" Drac was curious himself. "I'm not sure I've had that before?"

"And my hesitation was mostly because I don't know how much you know of the reasons I have been gone; I don't want to bore you."

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"It's a sausage, made with quite a bit of blood," Hannibal explained. "And I would never be bored hearing a friend speak."

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Drac stared at the doctor. Blood in the sausage...

"And it's a human food?"

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Hannibal laughed. "It's a very traditional human food, actually. Would you like to try it?"

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Drac was torn. "I don't know. I haven't had human blood in over a century... well, except for one weekend here, but I am still not sure if that was really me or not."

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"This is pig's blood, not human," Hannibal noted. Unfortunately.

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And in contrast, Drac's face lit up. "Oh?" Not that he preferred pig blood, but it was at least more acceptable!

And less likely to be carrying all sorts of weird diseases.

"Well, in that case, I could definitely be persuaded," Drac smiled.

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"And I would be delighted." Hannibal smiled and nodded back. "Come with me; I'll put the wine in the cellar and warm the pudding."

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"Lead the way." Drac was more than willing to follow his friend. "As far as everything else, do you remember the incident where that shop owner was stealing life force?" At least that was what he had been getting from Drac.

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"I do," Hannibal answered seriously as he headed inside. "You fell victim to him as well?"

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"Not that I was aware of it until it was over," Drac nodded. "I was close to the end when Ms Darkholme, one of my former students saved me. It's been difficult recovering from that."

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"From the deception, the self-knowledge, or the necessity of being saved by a student?" Hannibal asked. He led the way to the wine cellar and placed the Count's gift carefully inside, then took out a red that would go well with the sausage.

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"None of the above, actually." Drac was pleased at what he could see of the contents of the cellar. It reflected what the Count had suspected of the Doctor's personality.

"I've been deceived many times over in my long life, with the many self-revelations that comes with. And that Miss Darkholme was brave and intelligent and capable enough to come to my rescue is a welcome relief. I worry about that poor child..." He drifted off a bit with that thought

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Hannibal smiled and led the way upstairs to the kitchen next, by way of the pantry. "Oh? Is there reason to worry?"

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"She's only just started to like herself," Drac considered how to express his concerns. "Her true self. She's been raised to pass as something that she's not; to literally hide who she is. But now she is beginning to realize that she doesn't have to be something she's not, but..."

He frowned. "I don't want her to lose her family. She doesn't have any other support in her world."

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"If they are true family, she won't," Hannibal said. "And if they aren't, she has Fandom."

In the kitchen, he set the black pudding out and took down a skillet. "Would you like anything to go with this?"

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"True, but I don't know if she is as much family to them as they are to her." Drac couldn't shake the worry, sorry. "Perhaps it's the father in me."

He found a place to lean that wasn't in the way, hopefully. "I don't really know what would pair with it," Drac admitted.

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Hannibal smiled at the Count (who was not in the way, thank you). "I've never been a father myself. How is Mavis? And would you object to apples and onions with your sausage?"

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"She's doing well! She's running parts of the hotel. Perfectly, as I always expected. Her 118th birthday is coming up soon, so I am preparing for that."

Drac eyed him carefully. "They're not crab-apples, are they? I don't really feel in the mood to listen to them tonight."

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Those two statements didn't normally go together, but Hannibal could make a guess as to how they would. He grinned. "Non-sentient apples only," he promised. "What does a 118th birthday entail?"

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Drac smiled his appreciation. "Well, so far the hotel is booked and I have all the family invited,"

Except Dad, of course.

"and my band is going to play, and I booked Zombie Mozart and Zombie Beethoven and I am working on closing the deal on Zombie Wagner, but his manager is asking for too many riders." Drac growled at the reminder. "The menu is still in the works but it's going to be all of Mavis' favourite foods. I still have the activities to plan and her presents to buy and to mae sure the hotel is decorated..."