Hannibal's house (that Jono may be regretting being in tonight), Thursday night

[sharp_as_knives]

After numerous false starts, a (metric) ton(ne) (depending who you were asking) of planning, and only a little bit of veiled threatening of vendors, they had finally gotten to this point, which required manual labor. And Hannibal had no plan of doing it on his own.

So, he set the boxes on his desk, along with a list and two fountain pens, and called, Jono?

Comments

[furnaceface]

Hannibal was certainly much better at using what he knew in order to get his own way, it was true.

//Of course I want the strawberries,// Jono replied, blinking. //I think you'd have to check me for fever if I decided out of nowhere that I didn't.//

Because Jono. Because strawberries.

[sharp_as_knives]

"I believe I can say without checking that you're positively on fire," Hannibal answered wryly.

[furnaceface]

//I will give you such a pinch, Lecter, don't think I won't.//

You could tell how serious Jono was about that by how amused he sounded as he said it. Hannibal was on a very small list of people who could make that joke with impunity. He had better appreciate that.

[sharp_as_knives]

He appreciated it very much.

Not that he wouldn't have said it if he weren't on that list, but it was gratifying to know that he was.

"You could have pinched me years ago," Hannibal answered, a smile playing around his lips. "You're marrying me instead."

[furnaceface]

...

Just for that, Jono made a reach to pinch him.

It was love.