Hannibal's house (that Jono clearly thinks is his), Sunday

[sharp_as_knives]

Despite Hannibal's former office well on its way to being converted to a workout room, Jono had gone out running today. Since it generally took him a while, Hannibal had decided it would be the perfect time for a very personal meal.

After his run, Jono had worked out. And then headed for the sauna. Hannibal sent him a bit of amused approval as he plated his lunch, then let him have his time alone - his wrappings hadn't gone back on in over a week now, but he had needed a bit more decompression time after returning home. It was a work in progress.

Meanwhile, he was going to enjoy his pot au feu - marrow bones to one side with some very good salt and toasted baguette slices, tender meat sliced thin with vegetables arranged nicely among the slices, and just a bit of mustard and horseradish swirled in.

Bon(e) appetit was probably too obvious a pun, wasn't it? Never mind, then.



[OOC: WARNING - CANNIBALISM. Contents of Hannibal's meal (and thus the discussion about it) very much NFB.]

Comments

[furnaceface]

Some puns were really too tasteless, however delicious the meal, to be unleashed upon the unsuspecting, Hannibal. Fortunately, Jono was blissfully unaware of what was going on in the kitchen, or any puns the narrative might be up to. Going for his daily run without benefit of his wrappings to hide behind took a bit more nerving himself up to than just the act of going outside generally did, and he'd come back a little more tense than he would have liked.

Hence the working out.

And the sauna.

And then a shower that was a little longer than he used to take, just to try to get the last of the tenseness out of his shoulders. All of that took him a fair bit of time these days, and over the past week he'd taken to just retreating somewhere quiet to read with Joni curled up against his hip or some music playing softly to serve as background noise. Today, he'd figured he'd done enough of that. Baby steps and all, sure, but he couldn't spend the rest of his life hiding from reality in books and workouts and music just because he was wearing one less layer when he went outside. He'd reached for his book -- he was on what had to be his hundredth re-read of a certain Vonnegut book about Dresden -- and had hesitated, today. And then he'd shaken his head and headed for the kitchen, instead. He was vaguely aware of something that smelled fantastic, and investigating good food in good company was a step in the right direction, wasn't it?

He closed his eyes and paused for a moment to sneak a taste, piggybacking casually on Hannibal's senses. He couldn't quite place what that was. Veal? Pork? There was a lot of care put into it, either way, but that wasn't anything new when it came to Hannibal preparing a meal, whether he intended to share it or not.

[sharp_as_knives]

Veal or pork? Clearly Jono had been getting complacent.

Then again, a year ago Hannibal might have been more careful about his diet around Jono. Or at least been more deliberate about it.

Hannibal sat in the dining room, smiling at the arrangement of the food for a moment before he took the first bite. It was always such a pleasure to savor a dish well-made. Particularly so when he knew precisely where it came from and how much better it was like this.

[furnaceface]

Look, it wasn't like Jono thought about Hannibal's other, less mainstream tastes at all hours of the day. If he did, he'd probably go insane. He certainly wouldn't be marrying the man. As it stood, he was so busy being distracted by the flavour and the 'veal or pork' quandary that the other, third possibility didn't occur to him until he was just about to set foot into the dining room to ask about it.

Oh.

Oh.

It took him a few more moments still, regaining his composure at just the thought of it, trying to get the worried look from his face and telling himself a few times that it couldn't possibly be that before he made his way into the dining room. Casually. As one does.

//Somebody's been cooking,// he said, by way of greeting as he pulled up a chair at the table across from Hannibal. //Could smell it all the way down the hall. Some sort of stew?//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal quirked his lips at the overly casual act, but finished his bite and then answered. "Pot au feu. A traditional French stew made with marrow bones and meat. It seemed the weather for it. How was your run?"

[furnaceface]

//Could complain, but I'm th'bloody berk who decided to go out running in knee-deep snow in th'first place,// Jono replied. Still so very casually. He even threw in a good, casual shrug of his shoulders for good measure. //Chilly, I suppose, but that'll happen in January. Didn't trip over the flamingos on my way back in this time, so that was a plus...//

Bloody flamingos. Of course, it was hard to trip over a flock of birds that had arranged themselves into a neat little freezing birdpile off to the side of the yard.

//It was a step up from trying to do the entire route through drifts of popcorn, at least.//

Ish.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal made a face at the mention of the popcorn. "Less smelly, at any rate." Then he sighed. "At least the birds are back on the lawn. I'm fairly certain they've been under the porch lately." He was going to have to get someone to clean up the mess come Spring.

He smiled at Jono before taking another bite. After savoring it properly, he continued, "And you're getting more at ease in public." It was good to see.

[furnaceface]

//It helps that nobody's really made a big deal of it around here yet, this time around,// Jono offered, sitting stock still in that forced-relaxed pose as he watched Hannibal eat. //No screaming, no calling 911. You might almost get the impression that people around here are used to me or sommat.//

He'd been living here long enough, it probably was well past due.

[sharp_as_knives]

"It's a good feeling, I imagine." Hannibal reached for Jono's hand just for a moment. "Being yourself out in the open. Is it helping?"

[furnaceface]

Jono blinked, and then reached his hand back to take Hannibal's. Whatever he was processing right then, there was still that. The fearless hand reaching for his own. That was something he couldn't bring himself to turn away.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds. Tried to gather his thoughts.

//I... think so. Perhaps? It'll be easier to tell when I'm not so bloody wound up about it all the time. Another week or two. See how some of the island's newer people handle it, possibly.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"We could have a party if you like," Hannibal said. It was, after all, his birthday soon. Which he would not be spending at a bowling alley, thank you. "Have them over here; give you the home advantage."

[furnaceface]

//A place where I can still retreat to my own space if need be,// Jono noted, cracking open one eye to look at... Hannibal, and very much not at the bowl in front of him. //I'll need to think that one over, perhaps. But I suppose it'll happen sooner or later anyway...//

He squeezed Hannibal's hand a little more tightly, and then shut his eyes again. Right, then. Probably best to not just sit here and stew over it for long.

//So, ah, what's on the menu today?//

Probably not veal, huh?

[sharp_as_knives]

Stew over it? Hannibal would be so proud of that thought about his stew!

"Pot au feu," Hannibal repeated. "But that isn't what you're asking, is it?" He took another bite, savoring it carefully. "How much would you like to know?"

[furnaceface]

You weren't the only one who could make terrible food puns, Lecter.

//I think the fact that you're even asking that question says volumes,// Jono noted, thinking to himself, not for the first time, that it was probably fortunate that he couldn't be ill. //Who, then?//

There had gone his appetite for the foreseeable future.

[sharp_as_knives]

But it had been delicious, hadn't it? Surely Jono might want to share a bit more.

"A teacher, as it happens," Hannibal answered. "Middle school. With a taste of his own, for young girls."

Another bite. Really, the man's taste was much improved now.

[furnaceface]

Jono gave a slow nod at that. Didn't dare let go of Hannibal's hand. Couldn't quite bring himself to open his eyes again, either.

//Sounds utterly repugnant,// he muttered. //I would've been fooled, going by the taste of him.//

So.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at that. "I hadn't realized you were sharing. I've tried to avoid blindsiding you like that." He smiled. "But yes. He's much improved, I think."

[furnaceface]

Jono did open his eyes at that, but mostly managed to just stare down at their clasped hands. He was processing, now, ticking through feelings like a damaged clock that needed so much more than a simple winding.

//I should've asked,// he said, simply. It was true enough. How he felt about what the meal was seemed irrelevant, considering he'd all but given Hannibal his blessing to continue doing what he did, so long as the victims were the unquestionably guilty sort. //Smelled it from the other room, didn't think twice about it. Until I did, that is.//

No matter what he felt about the meal, he was the telepath who hadn't knocked first or asked permission before hitching a free ride. That was just basic manners. He could hardly complain if what he'd sampled while he was making himself at home in Hannibal's senses was something he was morally opposed to. Which mostly just meant that he was trying to ignore the cold chill down his spine, instead.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal smiled. "I've told you before, you never need to ask before sharing my senses. I won't have you feeling guilty for taking advantage of the invitation." Whether he felt guilty about the rest was up to him, although Hannibal would argue that was equally silly.

And he couldn't resist asking curiously, "What did you think of it?"

[furnaceface]

Jono managed to not give Hannibal a stinkeye for that question mostly because he knew that it came from a completely genuine place. Hannibal wouldn't be asking if he didn't want to know. Probably.

So he shrugged.

//Well-prepared. Tender, full of flavour,// he offered, trying not to let his psionic voice sound as flat as he felt. //I enjoyed it until I thought too hard about it, actually. As with everything else you cook, it's a work of art.//

The 'but I have issues with the fact that it is people' part, he was certain Hannibal could piece together for himself.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Thank you." Hannibal stroked his thumb over Jono's hand. "For the compliment, and for being honest." He took another bite of the stew, then offered, "Would you like me to tell you more about it, or leave it there?"

[furnaceface]

Jonothon had been, for as far back as he could remember, the victim of a morbid sense of curiosity. He sat there in silence for a few seconds, mostly just to reason with himself that there was no way in hell he could say yes to that offer without loathing himself a little more for it later on.

//Haven't got the stomach for it just yet,// he replied, because dammit, Hannibal, you weren't the only one who could make terrible puns with double-meanings. //That bit, I think, is a work in progress.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal smirked at the pun. "As you will. Perhaps by the time you have a stomach, you'll have the stomach for it." He rubbed Jono's hand then let go of it to fix himself a piece of toast.

[furnaceface]

//Perhaps,// Jono echoed, watching Hannibal do his thing while silently pondering if he ever would just take this part of him at face value, too. //I think I still have a lot to wrap my head around, so far as that goes.//

What with all of the times he'd nearly been cannibalized himself, for starters.

//Open invitation or not, I'll probably start asking what's on your plate before sampling again, at least for a while. This is something I'm not quite ready for yet.//

Yet? Yet was maybe a touch optimistic, really.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal would take that as a promising Freudian slip. "Ask as often as you like. I will always be honest with you. And I'll try to keep it off my plate when I'm certain you'll be sharing." Relationships were about compromise, he supposed.

And then, because he was trying to lighten the mood a little shit, "Not on the menu for the wedding, then?"

[furnaceface]

//If you put people on the menu for the wedding, Hannibal, I swear to god I'll have somebody move the reception to the bowling alley.//

Who needed threats of divorce? Jono understood Hannibal's sensibilities well enough.