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

[sharp_as_knives]

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!]

Comments

[sharp_as_knives]

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.

[furnaceface]

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.

[sharp_as_knives]

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.

[furnaceface]

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!

[sharp_as_knives]

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."

[furnaceface]

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."

[sharp_as_knives]

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

[furnaceface]

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...?"

[sharp_as_knives]

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

[furnaceface]

"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.

[sharp_as_knives]

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

[furnaceface]

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!