Hannibal's house (which Jono doesn't eat much in), Sunday evening

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal had sent a text message to all the usual suspects - that was, everybody he knew on the island or who might have children there: Dinner tonight for the children and a chance to relax for the adults.

So he was setting about making food. A lot of food.


[OOC: Open to anyone; if you think you got the text, you did. If you think you didn't but you want to show up, feel free to drop by anyway! No OCD today; I'm continuing the trend of lazy.]

Comments

[clonewelldone]

"I think we have jazz?" Angela looked to Jono for confirmation.

[furnaceface]

Jono gave his shoulders a little shrug.

//We've got Ella Fitzgerald in the pile, at the very least. I think some Sonny Rollins about halfway down, too. Lady's choice?//

[clonewelldone]

"Ella!" she declared. "No Sonny."

[myownface]

"Ella!" Sparkle... very nearly clapped his hands. Which would have been disastrous with the beer in one of them like that. "Hey, Doctor Lecter, your kid has great taste."

Which probably went without saying, huh?

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal certainly thought so.

"Of course she does." Hannibal smiled at them.

[furnaceface]

//Which,// Jono said helpfully, //she gets from the both of us.//

Because tiny clone baby raised by the two of them, right?

... He had to get some credit, right?

[sharp_as_knives]

Of course he did. But this was Hannibal - he wasn't about to admit it without prompting.

"Most likely."