Hannibal's house (and totally not Jono's), Sunday

[sharp_as_knives]

Yesterday had been reasonably quiet at home, but on these weekends, there was no telling how things would end up. So, once again, Hannibal had fixed enough food to almost-prepared for an army and enough coffee for three, and was spending as much quiet time as he could at the harpsichord.

The brass plaque at the gate announcing his office and qualifications was nicely polished, the flamingos scattered on the lawn had been sufficiently fed not to unduly bother any visitors, and everything was hopefully going to stay interesting without being too harrowing.

One could always hope.



[OOC: Open post! No OCD; ping or e-mail me if you have questions!]

Comments

[sharp_as_knives]

That was interesting, anyway. Hannibal nodded and led him through to the kitchen. "Do you eat eggs?" he asked. "I can make an omelette quickly. Or a salad, if you'd prefer."

[puppy_fair]

"Eggs are just fine," Zack replied with a little smile. "Fish is usually pretty okay too, unless I'm having a really off day."

Which was an interesting stance for a 'moral vegetarian of sorts,' as he'd put it, but he wasn't volunteering why, either.

"But really, whatever you want to cook is fine. I haven't had a home-cooked meal in way too long, thank you."

[sharp_as_knives]

Zack could choose his food however he liked; Hannibal wasn't one to nitpick the morality of eating.

"Roasted vegetables and gruyere cheese," he suggested. "Would you like coffee or tea?"

[puppy_fair]

"That sounds great," Zack replied, having no idea what the difference between gruyere and any other kind of cheese was. "And coffee sounds excellent right about now, actually. I haven't had a good cup of coffee in a while."

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal headed for that first, then, since the coffee was already made and he only neede to pull a cup from the vacuum brewer's tap. "Cream or sugar?"

[puppy_fair]

Zack couldn't even remember how he took his coffee. So, after a thoughtful frown, he shrugged his shoulders a little, and said, honestly, "I'm not sure. Maybe I'll try it black and figure it out from there?"

[sharp_as_knives]

"Why not?" Hannibal placed the cup in front of him along with the cream and sugar, and set about making the omelette. "So, you are an alumnus of Fandom, I take it - past student or past teacher?"

[puppy_fair]

"Student," Zack replied. And then, after a kind of embarrassed beat, he added, "Dropout. But my time at the school here was only ever supposed to be character building while I was off-duty, and SOLDIER really only ever gets called in for the big issues. Winning wars and battling off violent invasions. Things like that. I went back to work full-time once the ranks... thinned out... a bit."

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal could imagine what that meant. "I had thought you were saying your rank was soldier," he said. "That's the name of your army or organization?"

[puppy_fair]

"SOLDIER is..." Zack frowned thoughtfully. "It's one branch of the military of the ShinRa Electric Power Company. The elite branch. There's the normal military, with your basic troopers running around with rifles and so on, and then there's SOLDIER... physically enhanced super-soldiers meant to be ShinRa's strike team. It takes just one or two members of SOLDIER to do what an entire military squad would struggle with. We're strong, we're fast, and we're virtually unstoppable. First Class... that is my rank. I was a SOLDIER 1st by the time I turned eighteen. They start us pretty young, by Earth standards."

One hell of a power company, right?

[sharp_as_knives]

"Is power a very precious commodity in your world, then?" Because yes, that was one hell of a power company.

[puppy_fair]

"It is to ShinRa," Zack replied, a bitter expression crossing his face for just a moment before his smile slipped back into place. "They're a big fan of more kinds of power than just electric."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Many people are," Hannibal noted. "And those who have it often want more." He started cooking the vegetables, which would probably be smelling lovely in a minute or two. "Why do you work for them if you don't approve?"

[puppy_fair]

"I don't." There was a sort of cold firmness in his tone, then. Something had burned him, and burned him badly, and there wasn't much that could bring out the fury in Zack, but when something did, it was terrifying. "I ran away from home at about fifteen to work for them, growing up on stories about the heroes that came out of SOLDIER. Sephiroth, especially. No kid alive didn't respect Sephiroth. I got in easily enough. They put me through the SOLDIER treatment, I made it, and they put me to work. But that was... it was years ago."

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal nodded and kept his tone soothing. "And yet you introduce yourself as doing so. You don't approve of what they do, but you are still proud of your accomplishments for them." There was no judgement in his tone.

[puppy_fair]

"I'm going to be SOLDIER until the day I die," Zack replied, and if there was a chance that would be sooner rather than later... he'd come to terms with that, over the past few years. "It has more meaning to me than just the company that SOLDIER belongs to. There's honor in it. And... dreams."

Which sounded a bit weird, given the context of the conversation. But Zack had his reasons.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal nodded, then focused on the omelette for a moment. "There's nothing wrong with holding to honor. Or to dreams." He flipped the eggs with a deft twist of his hand. "What does a soldier who isn't with the company dream of?"

[puppy_fair]

Zack found himself swallowing thickly, looking down at the tabletop for a long moment.

What do angels dream of?!

"To be human," he murmured, quietly, under his breath, before looking up again and putting on that smile. That same, tired smile. More loudly, more certainly, he added, "Freedom."

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal heard both answers, and smiled back. "A worthy goal, freedom. And have you found it yet?"

[puppy_fair]

"I'm still looking," Zack replied, sounding as tired as he felt, for a change. "Sometimes I think I'm almost there, and then I run into a wall. Turn around, and somebody's built another one behind me while I wasn't paying attention."

[sharp_as_knives]

"And not even your very large sword helps?" Hannibal asked. He slid the omelette onto a plate, garnished it prettily, and placed it before Zack.

[puppy_fair]

"It helps me keep sight of what matters the most," Zack offered, nodding his thanks and smiling appreciatively down at his plate.

Now that was a fancy omelette.

"But if I'm trying to find that freedom, it's probably something that's a little more complicated than even a big sword can solve."

[sharp_as_knives]

"Many things are," Hannibal answered. He cleaned up the pan and cutting board. "What sorts of walls do you find before and behind you, then?"

[puppy_fair]

"It's... it's complicated," Zack sighed. "It's the kind of complicated where I might have to choose between two people I care about, or a third option that might leave both of them hurt but alive."

And him... potentially less alive. It depended how hat all fell out.

[sharp_as_knives]

"The difficult sorts of choices." Hannibal sat across from Zack and picked up his own coffee. "You must set before yourself all the consequences of each, and weigh them carefully. Decide which set of consequences you can mitigate or alter or live with best. Literally or metaphorically." Because he had a fair idea why that third choice might be bad.