Hannibal's house (which he and Jono are glad to be back to), Sunday morning

[sharp_as_knives]

After the last few hectic days, Hannibal slept in (and made sure Jono did his best to do the same), then took the time to make himself a proper, involved breakfast. Grapefruit, crepes, thick-cut bacon, and his best coffee.

And strawberries. Because Jono hadn't had a wonderful weekend, either.

He was going to take his time just to enjoy everything in quiet now for a while.


[OOC: Open post! Feel free to drop by for breakfast or afterward!]

Comments

[sharp_as_knives]

"Perhaps." Hannibal helped Jono swing around and lie on the table. "But you've managed well enough. And I don't mind fixing you up." He kissed the top of Jono's head before stepping away to get the things he needed.

Jono hadn't been in immediate danger; Hannibal wasn't going to fret over him. They'd made that deal long ago.

[furnaceface]

And it seemed to be working out well enough for the both of them. Jono still didn't care to be coddled, after all.

//I appreciate that,// he replied, closing his eyes again. Pain and regret. A good portion of his reality right now was mired in pain and regret. //Apologies in advance. I'm probably not going to be terribly coherent for much longer.//

Speaking telepathically took focus. Pain had a funny way of doing away with that.

[sharp_as_knives]

"That's quite all right." Cleaned and gloved, Hannibal returned for a closer look at Jono's back. "Speak while you can; it will help you focus on something else, and it will give me a better idea of your state, since I can't go by your breathing."

He wiped a few sites down and injected the painkillers.

[furnaceface]

//Fair enough,// Jono murmured, keeping his eyes shut and drumming his fingertips against the table. //So, what other wedding planning things do I have to look forward to, then?//

It was a handy topic to keep talking about, right there.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Would you like to be included on the menu planning?" Hannibal asked. "There will be deciding upon a flavor of cake and what the dishes are to be. I'm inclined to keep it a surprise, but if you'd like to share it, you're welcome to."

He felt lightly along Jono's back, mapping the breaks he could feel.

[furnaceface]

Jono... was going to just sort of press his forehead against the table and let his attention drift to how cool it felt, there.

//Menu planning,// he echoed, //could be fun. I suppose there'll be no getting away with just using disposable plates, hm?//

Not at a Hannibal wedding, there wouldn't be.

[sharp_as_knives]

It wasn't wise to tease the sadist who had your broken back under his hands, Jono.

"No," Hannibal said firmly. "But that falls under decoration, not menu planning. Menu planning will be myself and Eliot determining several main courses and a number of sides to go with each, as well as other courses, for the reception dinner; and hors d'oeuvres and such for before the ceremony."

[furnaceface]

Hey, anybody who called Jono 'wise' clearly hadn't met him.

... But beyond that, he wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders at the moment.

//Fair enough. Have you got any particular dishes in mind yet, then?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"I'm hoping for something that speaks to both of us," Hannibal said.

He picked up the scalpel and started a small cut over one of the worse breaks, keeping a close eye on Jono.

"I've never tried a fusion of British pub food and Continental haute cuisine. It should be interesting."

[furnaceface]

Jono was just. Going. To. Pay very close attention to the top of the table. Hello, table.

It was a charming table, really, when you were up this close and personal to it.

//A fusion of them? How would that even... I'm picturing caviar and chips cooked in truffle oil, here.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"I'll keep that in mind. Potatoes cooked in truffle oil have been popular lately, although I prefer duck fat."

Since Jono wasn't screaming in pain, Hannibal was going to finish his cut.

"Do you remember the globes I made of peas before? Something like that, although Eliot seems to have an aversion to molecular gastronomy."

[furnaceface]

Screaming in pain would be bad all-around, really. Jono was better at muscling through than that. Though anyone paying close enough attention would see he was curling his toes pretty tightly. And his forehead was going to have a red circle on it from the tabletop, at this rate.

//He seems sort of traditional,// he offered, clenching his hands, now, to go with those toes. //Exploding pea bubbles aren't exactly something most would remember mum and da making while growing up, I assume.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal noted the tensing and prepped another syringe of anesthetic. "You shouldn't feel more than vague discomfort, you know." He gave it a minute to kick in.

"And that's true enough, but it's also an excellent way to serve foods that would otherwise be far too messy to eat with the fingers."

[furnaceface]

//That how it works? You'd think I'd know by now...//

What with all the painstakingly avoiding hospitals he tended to do.

//And I always sort of figured that's what spoons were for,// he noted. //Or, ah, dipping. Though I'll never complain about peas, however they might come. One of these days I'll pop one of those things in my own bloody mouth, just wait and see.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"I have no doubt you will." Hannibal smiled down at him. "And that is what spoons are for, but it can be difficult to juggle silverware while standing. Finger foods are generally easier, provided people aren't wearing gloves."

He prodded the cut. "How does that feel now?"

[furnaceface]

//Are we not going to have chairs at the reception?// It was an honest question. Jono could count the number of weddings he'd been to on one hand. He could still count that high if he went and ran that hand through a lawnmower blade. //That is what the food is for, right? The reception?//

Seriously. Bad at this.

//And it's... uncomfortable, but better,// he decided. //If it starts hurting again, I'll let you know.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Thank you." Hannibal went back to his surgery. "There will be a reception after the ceremony, with dinner, that will have chairs. There will be food available before the ceremony, in the lobby, without chairs."

Weddings were very much about the food. Especially when one of the grooms was Hannibal.

[furnaceface]

//I... oh.// Well, Jono wasn't about to argue or complain. It sounded... nice. And, yes, like a very Hannibal wedding. //Right, so finger food and the meal. And then the cake. Any other dessert, or have we gotten that far yet?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"We haven't," Hannibal answered. "Generally a few smaller things - perhaps a fruit or gelato that will complement the cake. As with the main course and side dishes, the cake should be the star, but there will be accompaniments."

He reached in to carefully shift the rib back where it belonged. "I'll be drilling into the bones to wire them into place. You won't feel it, but the noise may be unpleasant."

[furnaceface]

//... Well, that sounds like a good time,// Jono muttered, wrinkling his nose. //Probably ought to stop talking about food before I hear that, or I'll come to associate gelato with bone drills.//

Not a great combination. Two great tastes that did not go great together.

Unless you were Hannibal, he supposed.

[sharp_as_knives]

"That should be gelatin rather than gelato," Hannibal quipped. He checked that the drill was as sterile as he could make it (the bodies he used it on generally already dead), and carefully drilled into each side of the bone.

[furnaceface]

//And thank you, I'm never eating gelatin again.//

... Well. Duh.

//Haven't decided if this is weird, or just horrible,// he added. //I suspect I will be feeling this later?//

[sharp_as_knives]

"The incisions and shifting of muscle, more than the bones," Hannibal said. "You'll still need to take it easy, and you may need more painkillers from time to time."

He cleaned up and threaded the wire through the holes. "And if you heal these ribs on your own later, you'll have to decide whether to form bone over the wires or eject them, but we'll come to that later."

[furnaceface]

//There's a decision I'm not particularly looking forward to making,// Jono muttered. //But I suppose we'll get to that when we get to it.//

Provided he didn't do something stupid again before then.

//Thank you for this, by the way,// he added, glancing down through his flames at the tools Hannibal was using. He... didn't want to speculate what Hannibal had a drill like that for. He didn't imagine Hannibal actually did much home surgery these days. //This beats the clinic by far. Or trying to hunt down a healer. Not that I don't know more than my fair share, but still...//

[sharp_as_knives]

It was best not to ask, really.

"But healers hold their own complications," Hannibal noted. He smiled as he checked his work and moved to the next bad break. "And if you're going to be worked on by a surgeon, I would prefer to know it's being done correctly."

Not to mention he was slightly possessive.

Just a bit.