sharp_as_knives | Hannibal's house (which seems much bigger today), Saturday morning

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Hannibal's house (which seems much bigger today), Saturday morning

Hannibal woke, yawned, stretched, and stumbled out of bed. He didn't remember where he was, but it seemed okay. He rubbed his eyes blearily as he glanced around, then headed downstairs.

Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any cooks or other workers here. Well, he could manage himself. Probably.

He opened the refrigerator, pulled up a stool, and got out eggs and butter and a pan. He could do this!

How much butter did you put in eggs?

[OOC: Open post!]

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As much as you needed to in order to be able to taste the butter, of course!

If your eggs were floating in it, you probably did something wrong. At least, that was what Jonothon had gathered, and Jonothon was rarely wrong, so long as he avoided anybody who would tell him otherwise. He was stretching and yawning with a desperate kitten winding around his ankles when he made his way into the kitchen to see what there was to eat.

"... Is th'butter confusing, mate?"

Hannibal glanced over at the strange boy, took a moment to realise he seemed friendly, then nodded in greeting. "Ar moki gaminti maistą?" Hm. He would need a knife to cut the butter...

That got a blink or two out of Jono, who tilted his head for a second before making his way over and, with a shrug, decided to helpfully inform the other kid, "I've got no idea what you just said. What are you lookin' for, anyway?"

Ooooh, lord. Those were some impressively sharp knives, there. The whole kitchen was fancy. Granddad would've been impressed. Probably. Or else he'd be looking to see what he could pawn off to help make ends meet. Something like that.

Hannibal looked at what the other boy was looking at, and smiled at the knives. He pulled out the closest one, which turned out to be about eight inches long, and carried it over to where he'd put the butter.

That would've been about the moment Jono's eyes bugged out a little.

"What? That's not a butter knife, you'll take your hand off with that," he protested, following behind at a distance, because he liked all of his own parts attached too, thank you. "What are you even trying to cook?"

Because he'd be sure to get an answer in English this time, sure.

Hannibal glanced back at the other boy and paused. He seemed...concerned? And was asking a question. Hannibal gestured at the butter and eggs. "Norite padėti?"

Aah... Okay then. So the other kid was trying to fry some eggs. With... a very large knife. Granddad would have had a fit. Jono grimaced, and then held his hand out to take said knife.

Very tentatively.

"Here, if you're hungry, I can cook eggs. I'll even throw in some extras if you want some toast with that, just... put away that bloody thing, would you?"

Hannibal clutched the knife tighter for a moment, but the other boy still didn't seem threatening. And he was asking, not demanding. Hannibal nodded, started to shove the knife at him, tried turning it around instead, then gave up and set it down on the counter.

What else did you need to make eggs? Right - a fork or something. He looked around the big kitchen, wondering where they might be. Maybe you could move them in the pan with the knife, too?

Noooooo way. Jono wasn't trusting you with anything sharp, kid. Ever. As it stood, he was going through the silverware drawers for, at the very least, an egg-turner. That would involve less mauling.

Big fan of less mauling, here.

"Here, look. THIS is for eggs," he declared, pulling out what he was at least mostly certain was intended for flipping things without self-mutilation. "Maybe get the frying pan ready instead? Can you do that?"

Hannibal eyed the...whatever it was. Spatula, maybe? Hm. That would probably be good for using on the eggs. Okay, so the other boy had the knife for the butter and the thing for the eggs, so. Hannibal picked up the heavy pan with both hands, slid it onto the stove, and turned the knob in front of it.

After a moment of struggling, he managed to push it in as he turned, and with a click and a little whoosh, there were flames. On the burner behind the pan. Hannibal sighed and tried the next knob, which got the right one.

"Bloody hell, yer gonna burn down the kitchen," Jono murmured. "Or yourself. You don't want to be on fire, I bet. Granddad tells me that's a fate to be avoided."

Jono was scrambling in now himself to try to pull some damage control. Extra burner off, and he'd... He'd just hide that knife as soon as possible. The spatula would cut the butter just as well.

Well, it wasn't as if Hannibal could read the "FRONT" and "REAR" by the dials!

And it really was a pity he couldn't retort about the being set on fire. Just remember that on Monday, Jono!

Hannibal reached for the extra burner at the same time, but let the other boy get it. What else did they need? "Druskinė?" he asked hopefully, looking around.

"Druskeen?" Jono gave his shoulders a shrug, and then reached for the butter himself. See? Damage control! "I don't know what that is, sorry. Maybe have a look around while I keep you from killing us all?"

The little black kitten was winding between both of them, now, hoping that somebody would drop some butter or fill her dish or something.

Hannibal leaned down to pick up the kitten, cuddling it - her - carefully. She was probably hungry, too! Maybe he could find her some food?

He opened the refrigerator, then peeked through the shelves and shifted things carefully until he found some meat. He closed it again and took the bag of meat over to the counter, then set it and the kitten down and (after a moment of fumbling) pried it open to offer to her.

Well, if Joni didn't love Hannibal before (which she absolutely did), he was her bestest best friend ever, now!

Jono glanced over his shoulder to watch for a moment as the kitten started eating every scrap of meat she could get her mouth around, and made a mental note to maybe... not cook anything out of that bag, if they got hungry again while they were still here.

He was also going to take this opportunity to break the eggs into the pan while the other kid was occupied with the cat. You know. Because he was hungry and didn't enjoy eggshells.

There probably wouldn't be anything left from this bag, because look, here came another cat! Staring grumpily at Hannibal and butting his leg!

Hannibal picked up some of the meat and started feeding it to him, too. All the cats needed to eat!

And it wasn't terribly likely that either cat would complain about being fed right out of the bag, either!

Jono glanced over again, a little jealous that the other kid was getting all the attention, maybe, but he wasn't about to draw notice to the fact that the eggs were almost done, either.

Or that he'd figured out the toaster and there was toast on the way with the fanciest bread he had seen in his life, and he was going to make a pair of the greasiest egg sandwiches possible, hopefully without breaking the-- "Blast!"

Okay, one with a broken yolk, and the other without. Such was life.

"Ką?" Hannibal might not know English, but he knew an unhappy exclamation when he heard one. He looked up at the other boy curiously while the cat licked his fingers.

Jono... flipped that egg. Maybe the other kid liked his yolks broken? You never knew, right? At least the question seemed pretty self-explanatory. That was good, anyway.

"I broke it," he explained, frowning down into the pan. "One's not going to be runny at all."

It was downright criminal, was what it was!

Whatever that was, it didn't sound too bad. Something cooking related? Hannibal shrugged and went back to feeding the cats.

Which left Jono with a few more moments to finish up what he was doing, and serve out the two eggs onto their respective plates. Food victory! If one counted a couple of eggs each and a piece of buttered toast as a full meal. Maybe there was something good to drink in the fridge, too. Or some fruit or something, maybe.

Jono turned the stove off, because again, he wasn't a huge fan of burning the place down, and then looked over at the other boy.

"Hey, you. Cat-kid. Food's on." He made a gesture to the pair of plates with his spatula. Look, no terrifying knife was necessary! And with any luck, the other kid would think he had been thoughtful and decided to prepare the eggs two different ways, since he couldn't ask how the other boy liked his yolk.

Hannibal was more likely just to eat whatever was there; he hadn't quite developed a sophisticated palate yet.

He looked back up at the words, and nodded, then picked the empty bag and the kitten back up, looked around for the garbage, sighed, put the bag back down, and picked up one of the plates to take over to the table he'd seen in the other room.

Hey, the bag would be just fine where it was at so long as neither of the cats decided they wanted to eat it, really. Jono took the other plate, and then followed along, pausing to give the old man cat a scratch behind the ears. He didn't seem like the type that wanted to be carried around, and Jono could respect that, but he wanted to at least give the cat some attention before sitting down to eat.

For all the old grey cat probably cared.

Beethoven graciously allowed the attention.

Hannibal realized he had no fork, but he wasn't sure where they were, either, and he was awfully hungry...

After a second, he grinned, then used one piece of bread to scoop the eggs onto the other, put the second piece on top, and bit happily into his egg sandwich.

Aha! See, the other kid could be taught, after all!

Jono shot him a big grin of approval, and then did the same, enjoying his victory. And not a single hand was cut off that day! The house was even still standing!

Hannibal wouldn't have cut off a hand. Honestly! He could handle a knife, he just couldn't cook.

He grinned back and nodded in thanks for the food. Then set it down long enough to lick his fingers clean and stick his hand out. "Hannibal."

Oh, hey! That sounded like a name! Jono could understand that, at least. In turn, he was wiping his hand on his trouser leg and going in for the handshake, grinning.

"Jonothon," he replied, giving him a little nod hello. "Hi."

"Sveiki!" Hannibal answered. Then, since Jonothon hadn't seemed to know Lithuanian, "Salut? Hallo?" Most people knew French or German, right?

Jono gave a little squint at that, and then ventured, "Hallo?"

And then, after a brief pause, a very rough, not particularly certain-sounding, "Sprichst du deutsch...?"

Hannibal's face lit up. "Ja! Eh...ein...bisschen?" he tried.

"Nicht gut," Jono added, scuffing his toe awkwardly. And then shrugged his shoulder lopsidedly. Hey, it was better than nothing, right? Better than babbling past one another and saying a whole lot and nothing in particular.

It was definitely better! Hannibal thought for a minute. "Der Haus - wo ist die...erm...Männer?" Surely this house belonged to someone?

Jono took a moment to parse that, and then he shrugged, looking around thoughtfully.

"Ich weiß nicht," he admitted. And then, after another pause, added, "viel Geld?"

They had to be filthy rich. Look at this place!

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Hannibal's house (which seems much bigger today), Saturday morning

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